But a Walking Shadow
by halfemptyflask
Summary: This is not a beginning, but the middle without an end. Does it really matter what happened between two people when the world around them splinters and falls away? Rated M for language, graphic violence, sexual situations, the works. Daryl/OC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer & Author's Note: I obviously have no legal holdings pertaining to The Walking Dead, AMC, or any other organization even somewhat associated. I won't make a profit off of this, is what I'm saying. I'll remain broke. This story is a little different than what I've seen on this website before, but I decided to go ahead with it. I've never done this before, so I'd be glad for any feedback offered. I feel like I need to point out the obvious and say that I didn't start from the beginning, but the middle, and it's up to you to piece together the details based upon the prose and the dialogue.

She would have thought it would be quiet. Daryl and Merle were busy staking down the tents and she, shaking hands holding a bottle of Dasani, sat on a log next to their small fire. Once the second tent was safely secured, Daryl looked her way before stepping inside, carrying his and her bags. She thought to protest, but the flap had already fallen. She looked back to where Merle stood smirking.

"Looks like he made his mind up, ain't he?"

Sarah's eyes dropped. Merle hurried into his own tent when his brother reemerged. Daryl scratched the back of his neck. Couldn't be too comforting to see him all covered in blood. . .

"I, uh. . ."

Sarah's head tilted up, but not enough to look him in the eye. Daryl breathed out impatiently through his nose.

"I put all your things away. I'm gonna wash all this shit offa me. I don't want you out here alone, so head back to the main camp. See what you can't find out. Make us some friends. You know me, I'm no good, y'know, with people and all." He tried to laugh, then tried to smile when that failed to get a reaction. She was staring at him now, those wide eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion. He turned away. "Go on, now. I'll come getcha when I'm done."

Sarah blinked quickly and stood, brushing off a thin layer of dried leaves and dirt. She scanned over the nearby group, trying to remember names. Daryl had at least been right to suggest she represent them to the others. Damage control, more like, with what Merle had said to that poor blonde lady. . .

She was naturally drawn to the only smiling face in the camp, which stood atop an aging RV. An elderly looking man with a rifle across his lap - Dale maybe? – motioned for her to join him when he noticed her approach.

"It's all right if I come up?" she asked, hands on the ladder.

"Sure! I could use some company, Mrs. Dixon." He winked at her. Sarah tensed, but pulled hand over hand to join him.

"We aren't actually married, just engaged." Sort of. Sarah waited to be invited to take a seat on the little lawn chair beside the older man.

"Ah, well, I guess you two better start thinking about making it official. Won't be much of a wedding or a honeymoon, but. . .one day we'll be looking back on it fondly." Dale smiled at her. She almost looked like a young Irma. He fleetingly remembered their ceremony, so many years ago in Ohio. He jumped suddenly. "You don't have to wait, please sit, my dear."

"It's. . .certainly something to consider. I don't know, with all that's going on. I mean. . .you've met him, he's under a lot of pressure right now. I don't want to push him." Sarah pulled the fakest smile of her life, and Dale grew concerned.

"Is everything all right?"

"Oh! Yes, everything is fine!" Sarah nodded quickly, eyes wide. "Believe me, if there's anyone on Earth that could handle the Dixons, it's me. Trust me."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between handling them and. . ."

"Oh please, have you seen the way he frets over me? Don't ever let him know that you've noticed. He won't ever admit it, but he does." Sarah smiled genuinely now, even though she'd played it up a little more than she'd meant to. Daryl'd be _pissed_. "Like I said, just a lot of pressure. He's worried."

Dale nodded. "I understand. Well, as long as you feel safe and comfortable, that's what matters."

"Hey!" Daryl shouted, rapping his hand against the side of the RV several times. "Hey, I need you. Come down."

Sarah rolled her eyes, on the defensive. "I'm talking. I'll be done in a minute. Are you hungry or something?"

Her domestic side took the edge out of his temper, usually. Why would he ask her to improve their reputation and come over acting a fool? An apology crossed his face and he held up his other hand, which dripped blood. She gasped and stood.

"Daryl—"

"Calm yourself, woman. It ain't no bite, I nearly fell down the quarry. Grabbed a sharp rock on the way up. Think ya can take a look, maybe stitch it up?" Daryl squinted up at her. He looked at Dale as an afterthought and grunted. "Nurse."

The old man's eyes brightened and widened. "I had no idea! Have you told Shane? Why don't you go and patch your husband up, Nurse Dixon? I'll catch up with you later."

"Husband?" Daryl asked as they walked back to the tent posted by his truck. His voice held just a spit of hope, and it made her stomach hurt.

"I didn't tell him that you were my husband, he guessed. Or I dunno, maybe you went around telling everyone that," Sarah snapped, dropping down to her log. Daryl had already brought out all of her supplies and smeared his blood across the handle of her bag. She scoffed. "Here, let me see."

He wasn't looking at her. Years had taught him not to yell back, even though it was in his gut to do so and was on the tip of his tongue. She'd yelled at him first, shouldn't that give him every right to? 'Whatever,' he thought angrily. Eventually, she had to come around. She had to. All of the other people nearby were so fucking grating and his brother was getting on his very last nerve, strutting off to the trees every five fucking minutes for a hit, not to mention flesh-eating freaks lined up all over the place to take a goddamn chunk outta him, couldn't she fucking cool her jets enough to be somewhat supportive to the man who'd done all he could for her these years?

Sarah gently took his hand in hers and began to clean the wound with iodine. She hissed with sympathy, knowing it had to burn, but he made no sound.

"You practically shredded it," she murmured, bringing the backs of his knuckles to her lips on instinct. She'd 'mothered' this man for years, and now she wasn't sure whether or not to regret her actions. He jerked away.

"Make up your goddamn mind. Ya want me or not?" he asked. "Don't play with me. I done everything I can to keep ya safe and happy."

"I'm sorry."

"What does that even fucking mean? What are you even saying that to? Goddamn!" Daryl grabbed at his hair with his bloody hands.

"Please hold still and let me see your hands."

"Don't you get it? Ain't none of that shit even _matters _anymore."

"It matters to me! Don't tell me what should and shouldn't matter to me!"

"I just don't fuckin' get it! What matters more, that we had our fights or that _dead people _are walkin' around tryin'a fuckin' eat us? You need me 'n I need you. I _want _you. I spent four fuckin' _years _on you—"

"I'm a fucking person, not an long-term investment!"

"I know! That's what you always say, but you ain't listenin' to me. You're still wearin' the goddamn ring under your shirt, Sarah, I know ya are, can we please just put this bullshit all aside a while so we can fuckin' _survive _together?"

Sarah felt herself crumbling. God, it had to be stress. Or not. Maybe everything. Poor man. But he's a fucking dick, she reminded herself. But he worked so hard, tried so hard, and it wasn't like she'd always been the perfect girlfriend. . .

"Daryl. . ."

Sensing he'd won, at least momentarily, her long-term companion put his good hand on her cheek. "Hey. . .we bes' calm down and get quiet. I know you gotta be scared, but it's okay. I ain't ever lettin' a goddamn thing happen to you. Shit, you may as well be my wife. You ain't ever gonna be rid of my ass."

"I'm not, Daryl. I can't ever be that now." Sarah dabbed antimicrobial cream in his tender wound.

"Only because you refuse to be," he snapped.

"Good Lord, I'm sick of hearing this shit," Merle cried, erupting from his tent. He pointed at Sarah. "Quit acting like a fuckin' kid. We ain't got time for this shit anymore. Ya got a man that don't beat on ya or nothin' and he put his ass on the line five times just this morning to save your ass. Keep ya safe. Got one hell of a bro-in-law, too." He grinned. "Speakin' of, let's go check those fuckin' snares, baby bro. We'll let yer old lady chill out a while. Far as I'm concerned, it's settled. Shut the fuck up about it."

Sarah cast her glare at Merle, but Daryl waved him away before any more anger could be spread. He needed to be bandaged anyway.

"Listen, you ain't gotta be my wife. I need – we need you. Merle ain't making no friends and I cain't fuckin' talk. You know that. Now, I know nothin' won't ever be the same, but my brother has a point. . .I mean, you remember those girls we saw at the FEMA camp?" Daryl squeezed her hands in one of his, his rage picking up. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Never, y'hear? Hate me all you want, hate me 'til the day I die, but I won't _ever_ let that be you."

"Come on, I don't hate you," Sarah whispered after a moment. She wound fresh cotton bandages around his hand. No stitches were needed this time, thank God. How many times had she bandaged and shined this man up?

"Thank you."

There was a long, pregnant pause, and Sarah sort of felt already that she played a loser's game. Daryl Dixon didn't want much for his life, but he knew how to get those few things he did, and a part of her felt fucking retarded for holding off as long as she had. Sarah reached over tentatively, nearly drawing her hand away several times, and placed it on her knee. She let out a deep, rattling breath. "I miss it so much."

Daryl bent his neck to kiss her immediately. If she missed it, why was she keeping them both away from it? The question disappeared and he groaned softly at the feel of her little arms tight around him once again. Too long, it'd been far too long since this had happened the proper way.

Dale dropped his binoculars then. Nice to see they'd gotten over that little spat, and there was no way Sarah would be kissing him like that if there was anything too awful going on between them. He shook his head at Shane, who stood so eager to interrogate the young woman. Impatient, the young sheriff climbed up to join him and took the binoculars from his hands.

"Hell is goin' on here? I thought for damn sure that woman was some kind of slave or hostage. I can see that older one shooting up a hundred yards away, crissakes. Hell's a nurse doin' with some white trash, inbred hick and his skinhead brother? Somethin' don't add up. . ."

"Well, I watched her get supplies from an EMT bag with apparent knowledge, I mean. . .not sure why she'd lie about being a nurse when it's so easy to determine if she is or not." Dale felt uncomfortable with Shane, spying on such an intimate scene.

"See, that's what I'm gonna find out. Soon as she comes outta that tent, you let me know. Looks like she's about to take a ride on his big green tractor."

Shane whipped the lanyard over his head. "Appreciate it, man. I mean. . .I'm just tryin' to keep us all safe. Ain't necessarily her I'm worried about."

Dale nodded. "I am a bit. . .uneasy. She looked unhappy when I called her Mrs. Dixon."

"I'll get to the bottom of it, don't you worry. Won't let some proper kind of lady be some kind of pawn or. . .weird. . . slave to a buncha low lifes. Holler, arright?"

Sarah pulled her blanket over herself as Daryl dressed. She found her eyes jumping from place to place in that tent. Any place but Daryl. Once finished buttoning his shirt, he looked down at her awkwardly.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "You look, uh . . ."

The blanket tightened around her body. His fingers flexed on his crossbow. Sarah couldn't stop herself from smiling. He cleared his throat.

"You know I won't go until you do it."

She sighed now. "Well, come down here."

Daryl stooped down to collect his kiss, something he'd never been so petulant about or really even cared about unless he needed reassurance that she wasn't shit-spittin' pissed. He was just a man, he quickly reasoned with himself, even if he did feel a little stupid, even though he knew a Dixon didn't do such things. He pushed his luck again, deepening her chaste little touch until he heard her groaning again. He could've swelled with pride, knowing all he had to do was kiss his woman to make her weak and wanting him again.

And it was true, at least for now, with all the turbulence and uncertainty in their lives. Sarah's regret faded so quickly when they were together like this again. Even if it were over, had been for a while, she could not imagine a greater comfort than the obvious affection of this one man, and she still had the bitter, defiant notion that she'd worked too hard to earn that affection to just walk away from it.

"One more," he grunted, and she nodded, pushing the blanket down. His shirt came off again. It'd been a long time since he'd been concerned with her seeing the scars on his body.

"I'm so scared, baby," Sarah whispered, her voice quavering. He held his face against her neck, hating those words. Why didn't he make her feel better? What wasn't he fucking doing for this woman?

"Don't be, I gotcha." Daryl squeezed a hip.

"I'm scared of you."

Daryl closed his eyes and took a moment to speak again. "Guess I better show you how foolish that is, 'en."

"I'm scared of all of this shit. I'm terrified. I mean it wasn't long ago I was unpacking the last of my boxes at my apartment—"

"Sssh," Daryl whispered, fingertips at her lips now. It made his chest twist and turn to hear her say things like that. "You never been more safe. No matter what, I'm your man."

Sarah hugged him tight against herself. She hadn't meant it to hurt.

"I'm just afraid to _be_ around you. You break me down. I can't stand it anymore."

Daryl eased up until he was barely touching her now. Sarah desperately tried to pull him back.

"All I want is this shit to go away," he panted, hand flying to his messy hair. "What'll it take? What do I gotta do? I'm _sorry_. I been crawlin' on my hands and knees sorry for fuckin' weeks. What the fuck is it you want from me?"

"Just touch me, Daryl. Please."

"I thought you was afraid?" His voice was raw and suspicious.

Sarah shook her head. "Not that you'll hurt me. You'd never. I believe that."

"Glad to hear you still have some kind of faith in me."

"I have all the faith in the world in _you_."

His hands went back to slowly stroking her sides and Sarah shivered. He supposed he should feel somewhat relieved, and he did. If she said she wasn't afraid that he'd hurt her physically and she still had faith in him, if she still so obviously wanted him the way she used to, then that was a start. If he could still make her feel safe and comforted, that was good enough for now.

"Don't you remember," he breathed huskily in her ear, "all them times I'd come from the deer camp after a week or so? I sure do. My princess waitin' on me, books and papers spread all over the kitchen table, and you'd have on some old sweater with your hair put up all messy. . .god, it was fuckin' hot. And you'd never hear of it."

Sarah already felt faint and feverish. It was almost too hard to breathe with so much activity in her chest. "Daryl. . ."

"I remember that part, too," he continued, hand sliding down between her legs. Her thighs trembled, but she only leaned her head back and sighed quietly. His own bent to kiss her nipple. "I remember you lookin' at me like some kinda. . ." he chuckled almost nervously. He couldn't stand to praise himself, or even mention that he had once been praised. "And all I was was filthy, covered in dirt and rifle grease, but you couldn't keep your hands off me, could ya?"

Sarah shook her head, breath rattling. "No. . .and I looked at you like you were a fucking god, because you are."

Daryl couldn't decide if this was a good or bad feeling in his gut. He decided to leave it alone. Swallowed it down when it tried to rise.

"Sometimes I wonder what the fuck you're doin' with me," he blurted. He took in a quick, deep breath. "But I guess I got enough. You ain't too dumb to figure out whatcha want."

"I want you, I want _you_," Sarah breathed desperately, her hips moving with his hand. He smirked, even if he knew those words were spoken far too hastily. She wouldn't mean it later, but it was still a start.

"Patience, woman. Ain't I taught you nothin' all these years? If I wanted to be fuckin' ya, I would be." Daryl squeezed her ass with his other hand.

"Why don't you want me?" she whined softly, eyebrows slanted with worry. He snickered, fingers moving a little more quickly. She trembled and panted. "_Daryl!_"

"Be a good girl, now."

"I'm tryin' to be, baby, but I—"

"I don't take excuses, Sarah Claire."

"What do you want me to do?"

Stop this foolishness, put the damn ring back on your finger, let me fuck your brains out. . .well, at least he had that last option.

"Hush up and let me do what's best for ya."

She groaned again when his head dipped down. "What's best for me?"

"Sssh." Daryl had long, long been denied this, since even before their initial breakup. He guessed he could've seen it coming, but didn't it mean something that he was here right now? He didn't even care if he could taste himself on her, although he knew Merle would probably beat the living shit out of him for this on the off chance he'd ever find out.

Sarah held her hand firmly over her mouth, trying desperately to muffle all the noise. Bastard, she thought. He was still trying to get her just as loud as he used to, challenging her. He _knew_ it was hard for her to be quiet, and yet here he was, acting like they still lived in their own little House on the Prairie, with no neighbors for miles, no danger in the sound of her cries in the night or evening or morning or afternoon. . .

A loud gasp finally sounded through the camp as her silky thighs clamped around Daryl's head. He chuckled softly against her, tongue not letting up for another minute, and again it was just like always. Just when Sarah was thinking she could never find her way back from that airy place he'd sent her, there he was. There was that strong body on top of hers, lips against her ear, voice and motions guiding her back.

Daryl looked for some kind of an excuse to stick around a little longer afterward, but Sarah had gotten that far away look again and he knew Merle was stalking off close to the tree line, wondering where the hell he was.

"I don't want you alone," he repeated his earlier statement, reaching for his jeans. An ornery little groan hit his ears like a ton of bricks and a hand grasped his arm. He hadn't been expecting that. "What is it?"

"I don't want you goin' anywhere," Sarah said matter-of-factly, pulling his rough body back. Or attempting to, at least. "Daryl, come here!"

"Wantin' me all a sudden?" he asked, leaning toward her.

"I think I've been wantin' you for the past hour or so." Sarah stretched her arms, satisfied with his closeness. "Just stay another minute."

It struck Daryl suddenly that when he did leave, he would be coming back to no such Sarah. Ordinarily. . .well, he knew she'd be acting much differently. Even if she did want him around now, there was a certain reservation surrounding her attitude and features. He sat up abruptly to dress and sling his bow across his back, stomach ice cold. Why prolong it if he was just gonna suffer in the end, anyway, he bitterly reasoned.

"Daryl!" Sarah cried, but was met with only a sneering scoff.

"Leave it be, woman. I gotta help Merle." His voice and words hung like shards of glass in the air around her, cutting. She sat up angrily.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ, why do you always have to be such a dick?" said woman fumed, grasping her own pants from the ground. "God knows I _tried_."

"Tried, hell! You know, I ain't ever heard of a _woman_ usin' a _man_ for his body the way you carry on. I'd be fuckin' ashamed to admit how many times I fuckin' caved in when your fuckin' ass would call at two in the morning, but I ain't the one that oughtta be ashamed." Daryl gestured toward her wildly. Sarah almost tripped in her fury.

"Ex_cuse _me?" she hissed, pulling her jeans up her hips.

"Yeah, can't nobody call _you_ a fuckin' cocktease. There's no tellin' what all you. . ." Daryl trailed off, fingernail between his teeth, his eyes focused on some point beyond the tent walls.

"Are you fucking saying what I think you're saying? Are you _really_ going to stand there and act like I'm some kind of whore? What, because I fucked somebody else after _you_ broke up with _me_?"

The change in the atmosphere was immediately, vastly different. She had never come out and said that she had before, although Daryl always knew and accused, and the verbal confirmation had Daryl instantly back on the offensive. His hands curled into fists momentarily, a snarl flashing across his features, and he gave a loud growl. He walked closer to the woman he'd spent so many years of his life with, pacing back, thinking better, marching right back to be face-to-face with her, finger in hers. "You. . .You _fucking_—"

"Fucking what, Daryl?" Sarah challenged, moving one step closer to the irate man. It was almost funny to see just how pissed he really was, but it also upset her terribly to have caused this. She knew that had to have hurt, how she'd flung that in his face. . .hey, she wasn't the one that should be feeling bad!

Daryl paced around the tent now, completely unsure of what to do with himself. His chest had a raging fire and his arms felt like they were made of lead. Almost hyperventilating, he spun on her. "Who was he? How many? Who _were they?_"

"Probably dead!" Sarah shouted back at him with a cracking voice. "You don't have a right to be mad at me!"

"WHO?" Daryl's voice rose the highest she'd ever heard it, and he just kept getting closer. Sarah took a few steps backward. "No, you don't get to walk away from me again. Who the fuck was it? You tell me Sarah Claire, I swear to God—"

"Scott Rankin from the hospital! Jesus!"

Daryl scoffed, eyes burning. He turned away. "Figures it'd be one of _those _people."

"What do you mean, those people? Have you completely forgotten that you broke up with me before this ever even happened?" Sarah asked, face inches from his yet again.

"I fuckin' apologized and you said no, no fuckin' thanks, Daryl, I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to do this right now. I knew you were gonna break it off sooner or later, probably so you could fuck ol' Scott. Isn't that the one you always used to talk about anyway?" Daryl scoffed again, throwing down the bandana he'd been wringing in his hands. "I shoulda known you'd do this to me."

"No!" Sarah cried, all the hurt and stress culminating to cause a break in her shiny veneer. "You don't get to fucking say that! I never would have dreamed of being with another man before, but you told me it was better to just cut our losses and I felt _sad_. Do you get that? What it's like to feel sadness?"

Oh, how she regretted those words so completely as soon as they left her mouth.

"I didn't mean that," she mumbled awkwardly, unable to raise her head to look at him again.

"Stupid, self-absorbed bitch," he seethed. She didn't know, had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

"I just meant that you never—"

Daryl didn't wait around to hear the end of that sentence, whipping through the entrance of the tent just as fast as anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who sent a review or messaged me! I'm glad to hear that it was enjoyed. I hammered out chapter two with lightening speed, so here it is. Please let me know what you think!

"Goddamn baby bro," laughed Merle as he saw his brother come into view. "What'd you do to her?"

The younger man raised his bow and plucked off a squirrel from the boughs above.

Merle shook his head. "Damn cop kept lookin' over. Reckon he heard?"

Daryl shrugged. Fuck did it matter? His older brother watched the pig approach where Sarah now stood by the truck, then followed into the brush.

"S'long as you don't care."

Sarah hastily wiped her wet face when she noticed someone coming along. "Hello?"

"Hey, you okay? He hurt you?" Shane's voice rose with every word and he reached out and grabbed her shoulder gingerly when he was close. Before she could as much as shake her head, he was pushing her toward the RV. He cracked his most charming, crooked grin. "C'mon, we oughtta talk. I think the other ladies made a little something for dinner and I'd like to invite you to come and eat with me while we chat. I ain't really got a chance to have dinner with a pretty lady in a minute."

Sarah stumbled over a log and Shane picked her up and carried her quickly to the area he'd staked for himself.

"T-Dog, take watch out here. Don't let any methed out assholes get through."

"What are you doing?" Sarah shook where he'd let her down. "Dar-"

"Hold on now, relax." Shane held a finger to his lips. "I'm an officer, I can help you. Where did they find you, sugar?"

"I met them five years ago!" Sarah cried, still intimidated in this strange man's tent. She crept toward the flap, but he moved in front of it, trying his best to look concerned and not threatening. "I'm as good as married to Daryl. Daryl Lucas Dixon, Jr. September 27, 1977. H-he bought me a fucking puppy the first time he took me out. I still don't know why."

Shane blinked at her, head cocking to the side as his lips parted.

"Merle, well, he has no middle name. Merle Dixon, like a brother to me, December 20, 1968. First time Daryl ever took me out properly, we ended up having to pick him up from the drunk tank, puppy and all. Daryl was so pissed and embarrassed. The dog, his name was Everett. Damn dog always liked Merle best. . ." Sarah abruptly sobbed, and Shane quickly moved in to console.

This turned out to be a very bad thing. Somewhere in the midst of Sarah's speech, Daryl and Merle had emerged from the woods with their snare catches, found Sarah missing, and Merle had disclosed whom he'd seen visiting her before. When the men marched into the main camp and heard a woman crying in a tent with an armed guard, weapons were raised.

"Hey!" Daryl shouted, and Merle did not hesitate to raise his rifle at the black man outside the tent.

"Whoa, dog, chill out," T-Dog's eyes widened. "Lawman just wanted a talk with the lady."

Daryl pushed past him. No way Merle seemed like he wouldn't actually pull the trigger if Daryl was impeded. "Sarah!"

"Sssh. . ." he heard behind the zipped flap. He also heard the cold sound of Merle's finger moving past the trigger guard. When he entered the rather large tent, the cop and his fiancée were no longer touching, but he knew they had been. There were tearstains all over that uniform he still insisted on wearing. Sarah stood between the two of them, truly a pitiful sight, but Daryl failed to assess the extent, her hands covering her face as she quietly went on crying.

"Daryl," she whispered, and he was anchored by his rage. He collected himself enough to act within a moment, but she moved to him before he could pull the pistol from his waistband.

"What'd he do? What'd he do?" Daryl barked, eyes filled with pure malice. Sarah simply shook her head against his shoulder. "Fuck you do with my fuckin' wife?"

"Hey, I am an officer of the law!" Shane shouted, advancing on the would-be couple. "Saw this woman come out of your tent crying and I needed to get her somewhere secure. Then she started talking about you when I questioned her and she began crying again. What's up with that, huh? Why do you suppose your 'wife' would do such a thing?"

"What ya tryin' 'a say?" Daryl gritted out from behind his teeth.

"Quit! Quit it!" Sarah cried, holding Daryl still before he could lunge at the other man. "It's nothing, he was just trying to help."

"Lookit you!" Daryl shouted. "Why are you crying?"

"We can talk about this later, now we need to fix this shit. God, why did you have to come in here with a fucking gun?" Sarah wiped her eyes again, willing herself to stop this foolishness. "Officer, please don't freak out, Daryl and I. . .are just trying to work some things out. We broke up a while ago."

"Are you scared to be around him?" Shane demanded, close to Sarah's face. Daryl placed a hand on the man's shoulder and shoved him away. "Don't you fuckin' touch me, shithead!"

"Hey! You talk to my brother like that one more time, I'm gonna shoot this here nigger in the head!" Merle warned from outside the tent. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut.

"God fucking damn it, Merle!" she yelled. "Put the fucking gun down, you're making shit worse!" She turned to Daryl, ignoring the pit in her stomach. She and Merle went even further back than she and Daryl, but he wasn't about to let her slide for talking to him like that. It was something she'd just have to face later. "You've got to get him to stop. This is crazy. You are all acting fucking insane.

"Daryl doesn't fucking scare me. He makes me feel _many _things, but fear is not one of them. He saved my life. I'd be dead or walking if he hadn't come and got me from the ER, and he had no obligation to. He just wants me to be safe. He worried when he heard me crying, I guess, and weren't you?"

Shane stared into the sharp blue eyes that were still sizing him up, ready to spring at a moment's notice. "You broken up?"

Sarah nodded and Daryl growled in frustration.

"Why are you stayin' over there, then? Why'd he call you his wife?"

"Jesus, one at a time," Sarah rubbed her eyes.

"She's stayin' with me because I can do a lot better by her than some pigfuckin', 'roid-raged cop!"

Sarah held onto Daryl's wrist. What was he doing here, anyway? Hadn't he just written her off as a whore and traipsed off into the goddamn forest like he always did when there was a hint of emotion behind any given situation?

"He's never done anything but help me and I know him well. I'm close to his family. They know a lot of shit. They can do plenty. And I'm a nurse. I graduated from Emory two years ago. Before that, I worked in sales. . ." Sarah gulped. That was saying way too much. "Listen, I'm _sorry_. This was a big misunderstanding. Dixons take care of their own, and their territorial piss is all fucking over me. I'm sorry. But you see what they'll do to take care of the ones they care about."

Shane ran a hand through his sweaty hair. This wasn't really any worse than anything else the older one had done so far, and he himself wasn't much of a hunter. Neither was anyone else in the group, but there was fresh meat in a stew waiting to be eaten outside of his tent. "You willing to work?"

Sarah nodded quickly. "Whatever I have to. Laundry, cooking—"

"The hell you ain't," Daryl interjected forcefully, shooting that out of the water right then and there. Hell was she so fucking determined to make a place for them here, anyway? Didn't she believe he'd keep it together for them with or without these people? "She's a damn nurse, she's got better things to do. She ain't washing anybody's clothes. I lived with her three years, worked full time, hunted, and I still managed to wash my own goddamn jeans. No."

"Daryl, baby, please—"

"I said no, Sarah Claire."

"And just what do _you_ have to offer? Seems to me like your brother's done most of the trapping. Gonna cook up some meth or a batch 'a moonshine?" Shane sneered, and Sarah took a deep, sharp intake of breath. Daryl snared and tried to jump at him again.

"Now hold on! That was a shitty thing to say!" Sarah exclaimed, barely able to keep Daryl under control by now. "He has never done either of those things and he works just as hard as Merle to feed these people. He's a good man and brave and smart and worth a lot more than your tired stereotypes!"

Daryl's chest swelled in spite of his anger and he watched the cop run a hand through his hair. Finally, Shane looked at Sarah.

"What else _can _he do? Him and Cooter Brown?"

"I can hunt your goddamn dinner, pigfucker, and I bet you won't be calling me trash when those fuckin' canned beans run out and you can't catch nary a hare or a squirrel," Daryl snapped. "I can fix anything in this camp, take watch, track, find clean water, you name it. But my wi. . ._Sarah_ is a nurse. That's all she does. She worked too goddamn hard to wind up doing that shit."

Sarah leaned over sheepishly to kiss his forehead. "We can talk about that later."

Daryl shook his head against hers, never taking his eyes off of Shane. "I ain't watching you take care of some other man. You help me with the snares, skinning, gutting, take care of our camp, and you doctor these folks. They ain't about to push you around just because you're a woman like they do those others that don't have a real man to stick up for 'em."

"Nobody does that here," Shane retorted defensively. "Sarah can do whatever she wants to, as long as she is helping. You and Cooter too, I guess. No violence, keep fires low at night. . ."

Sarah stopped listening, much more focused on Daryl. He was still paying attention, still seething, and he pulled himself away from her to point a finger in the other man's face.

"That's all fine, but don't you ever put a gun between me and her again. You got a lot worse goin' on in this camp than me and Merle. I'm takin' her back. We'll talk more shortly." Daryl took her arm. "S'go."

Outside the tent, everyone had gathered and Merle hadn't budged.

"It's okay," Sarah said softly. She hoped to alleviate the worry in their eyes, but found she couldn't meet them for long. Daryl pulled her closer, as if to guard her from their accusing, disgusted glares. He was used to it, and he'd never have her getting used to such a thing. He walked them quickly back behind his truck where their tents were located, but he could hear Merle swaggering along slowly as though nothing at all out of place had happened.

"Hey blondie," they heard him remark.

"Looks like I can't leave you alone a second," Daryl commented. Sarah sighed and watched Merle take his rifle into the treeline. She swallowed, no fucking clue what to say to Daryl at this point. He'd stalked away from her not an hour ago, more livid than she'd ever seen him, right after she had confirmed that yes, she had slept with another man. Was this somehow going to be another thing that he swept under the rug, never to talk about again?

"Daryl?" she called from across the fire. He stood at the other side, adding a few more twigs and then dusting his hands off. "Baby, we need to talk. . ."

"Oh, s'at what I am now?" he chuckled bitterly. "Your little sheriff friend sure didn't think so."

Daryl sat and took to slicing the log he'd selected for his own with his Buck knife. Sarah cautiously reached for his hand.

"You don't know how bad it hurt me when you broke things off." She noticed his jaw setting into a hard line. "And I know that _I_ was the one who decided to keep things that way, but honestly I was like you. I felt like it was going to happen one way or the other, and I didn't want to do the back and forth shit before it finally just collapsed and I'd hate you and you'd hate me. So there. You wanted to know, and that's why I didn't come running back when you said you'd made a mistake."

Daryl raised his eyes to her, and she wasn't comfortable with what she saw. That anger was fierce and palpable. She sighed and decided to continue.

"But don't think I never wanted to. Don't think I never thought about it like crazy, drinking half a bottle of wine to try and keep you off my fucking mind until I called you at two in the morning to keep from crying my eyes out. Just because I missed you and needed to see you so bad, I didn't know if I'd make it through the night because I was drunk and heartbroke and I thought that it might actually kill me. And how could I _not_ want you when I saw you? How could I not want to feel every little part of you again? How could I not want to kiss that mole above your lip and feel what it's like to rub my leg up against your hairy fucking shin? Do you even know? Do you even _know_ what it means to me to be in your presence for fifteen minutes? Seconds?" Sarah stopped and dabbed at her eyes again. Great. She'd never been such an emotional fucking wreck in the five years the man had known her, and she chose this of all days to weep like a bitch. She couldn't look at him anymore, embarrassed and slightly ashamed of herself, but she knew he was still looking her way and paying attention, so she went on.

"All those times when you were gone at the deer camp, I had _our_ house, _our_ living room, _our_ kitchen, _our_ dogs, _our_ bed. . ._our _stuff. I didn't have you those nights you were gone, but you were never far, and I had a closet full of your old flannel button ups to sleep in to feel close to you until you came back again. And when we split up, I didn't have any of that shit anymore. I didn't have a million little next-best-things to curl up with while I fucking longed for you. I remember you accidentally left your vest once and I slept in that thing for three nights. God, I am pathetic and rambling."

Sarah wiped her eyes with a crumpled up Kleenex from her jean pocket.

"You ain't pathetic," Daryl grumbled from beside her. She waited, but he didn't seem inclined to say any more.

"I'm sorry," she began again. "For what it's worth, which I know ain't a lot for you, I'm really sorry for everything I put you through. You're a good man and you deserve a lot better."

"Don't go startin' talkin' like that," he shook his head, eyes squinted with annoyance. "It ain't really a matter of who deserves who or who deserves better. We picked each other out because we see one another as the same. Ya ain't below me and I ain't below you." Or at least neither saw the other that way.

"I'm shocked you ever gave me the time 'a day," Sarah whispered solemnly. "I know how much you hated it."

"Don't." Daryl's voice was stern and final. "We don't talk about that. It's over and done with and you ain't ever gettin' wrapped up in shit like that again. You're a goddamn respectable member of society, er. . .as it stood. Quit talkin' about that shit. Not another fuckin' word."

She jumped, but dared to move closer to him again.

"Daryl?"

"What?"

"Do you really hate me?"

He threw down his knife in frustration, rubbing his forehead. "Now come on, woman, what kinda fool question is that? Good Lord."

Sarah smiled and kissed a tense cheek. "I maybe love you a little, Dixon. I always will, no matter what happens."

His eyes popped open wider than she'd probably ever see them and he stood. "Hold on just a fuckin' minute. We gotta settle this shit here and now, or I ain't ever settling it. You hear me? Fuckin' pick. What's it gonna be? No more of this 'no matter what fuckin' happens', no more of this fuckin'. . .just fuckin' tell me! Decide! And make the right fuckin' choice, you damn brat!"

Sarah stood stock straight then, finger to his chest. "You'll catch more flies with honey, you idiot!"

"Sarah Claire. . ."

"Listen, damn it! Let me get on with what I was saying. I missed you so bad, it felt like somebody shot me in the chest. Every time someone came in the ER from a hunting incident, I went into the fucking bathroom and ate Oreos and cried. I'm not kidding. Whatever. All I'm saying is that I've been missing you, and when I got to talking about you and Merle and Everett in Shane's tent, I broke down and sobbed like a little fucking girl because of it. I finally did it, and I'm not willing to go back to that. It's funny that I just so happened to come to that conclusion right after I probably spoiled my chances with you forever, but god fucking damn it Daryl, I _can't_. I can't do it anymore. This is dumb."

Daryl simply nodded, as though that were the most appropriate action in the world to take after the woman he loved poured her heart out that way. His arm extended a little bit after he sat down, and finally he looked at her. "Well? Come over here, girl."

In a way, it was perfect. It was perfect for them, anyway, she supposed. When fights were finally over, this was how it went. Daryl would sit on the couch with a silent invitation that she be next to him, and they'd be quiet a while before he'd kiss her and maybe give a short apology depending upon how bad it'd been, she'd apologize right back, and they'd stare off into something, be it television or the fire, emotionally exhausted, but relieved.

"Now Sarah Claire," Daryl murmured close to her ear, arm around her back. He thought a moment before he predictably kissed the shell of it, making her shiver. "Things are different now. You know that."

She nodded.

"I want you to learn how to shoot a gun. Soon. Tomorrow. I don't ever wanna see you without some kind of weapon to protect yourself with if worse comes to worse. You know me and Merle always got your back, but sometimes a Dixon's best still ain't good enough. I'll sleep a little better at night if I know your only experience with point-and-shoot ain't a camera or Silly String on my birthday when I get out of the fuckin' shower."

The woman snickered helplessly at the visual, the memories. Three years in a row. He got a little less pissed each year. Somehow, she'd find a way to get her hands on at least one can of Silly String before September. . .

"This was stupid. Real fuckin' dumb. Had I known you was really hurtin' that much, I wouldn't have abided all this stupid 'broken up' bullshit. I never saw you less than three times a week and we hardly acted any different, anyhow. Never again. We can't do this shit now, and the fact that it took the dead gettin' up and attackin' people to get our shit sorted out is fuckin' sad. God knows I'm shit for talkin' or whatever, but from now on, that's what we do. Can't afford to fuck it up anymore. I need you too bad. I think you need me too, maybe." Daryl winked, almost playful.

Sarah nodded, her arm around him. "I'll put the ring back on. Again, I'm sorry."

Daryl shook his head. "I was every bit as much a fool as you. Time to just let it go and do what's right for us both. I known for a while now you're what's right for me, and lookit you. Hopeless without me."

"You're really pushing your already rotten luck, Dixon."

"Ah, shuddup." Daryl jostled her gently, his smile slight but still present as he gazed down at her. "Gonna feed your ol' man or what?"

Sarah smiled and smacked at him playfully. "I dunno, I don't think the camp is mighty impressed with our little family right now."

"I killed that fuckin' squirrel, so I don't rightly give a fuck." Daryl held her wrists and kissed her, tongue shoving past her lips until she sputtered and he laughed.

"Fucking asshole!" she stood, stumbling away from him.

"Holy shit, is it finally fuckin' over?" Merle hollered dramatically, startling the woman. "Somebody please tell me this mess is finally done."

Sarah rolled her eyes, but leaned toward the loud man's brother anyway. "I'm going to see about dinner. Looks like my main job here is going to be damage control."

"Don't find yourself alone with that cop," Daryl finally spoke, poking at the fire. No sense in arguing right after making up. "I mean it."

"If it makes you feel any better, he was only trying to help, misguided though he very well was."

"No, it don't make a damn bit of difference to me, Sarah Claire. Man spoke to me like I'd fuckin' raped you or some shit. That don't fuckin' sit well with me," Daryl rasped, gripping his knife again. "Damn, it ain't like I don't know. . ."

"Damn it, woman, I'm starved. Got t'is here rabbit, fat sumbitch. Take it on to them with regards from Ol' Merle. Baby bro and I gotta talk." Merle threw the carcass at her nonchalantly, eyes never leaving his brother.

Sarah jerked the dead animal up, glaring at the belligerent man, and stalked off toward the other camp. Goddamn Merle.

"You know I always cared about that girl," Merle said when she was gone, stepping closer to his brother. Daryl set his jaw. Wasn't a good way for Merle to start a talk. "She's a good'un. Never once looked down on you or me. Not that she's really any better, I guess, considering. Hell, I was still shocked as shit when she started shackin' up with _you__,_ of all fuckin' people. . ." he trailed off with laughter. "Always wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Figured she mighta had a third nipple or a second pussy I didn't know about, but I never minded it none. She meant good business and it got you outta the fuckin' deer stand and with real people. But you two done carried on a long time. Every time I expected her to pack up and go, she never did. Hell, I was fuckin' rootin' for y'all when you decided to get hitched and she actually agreed. I'm glad this nonsense is finished. But lemme tell ya this. . ."

"Merle," Daryl gritted out. Merle grabbed him quick by the collar and held him there, stone-cold eyes locked to his. He smirked at the silence from his little brother.

"No, you listen. Shoulda listened to me a long time ago, when you stayed with me to wait on her movin' out. I told ya then ya shoulda gone back there and set her straight. What you done was a fool thing, but that idiot bitch - God knows I love her, now, don't get me wrong - she took it all too far. That woman won't stick around forever, not with you actin' like such a fuckin' pussy. Yer her _man_, it's time ya fuckin' showed her what's what. Put her in her place. I heard how she was talkin' to ya," Merle continued. "She got way too much of a mouth on her."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't no goddamn woman in the world belongs _behind_ a man. It's _beside_, like Mama." The younger man pushed his brother off of himself, but his heart pounded fearfully in his chest. All these years. . .

Merle shook his head now. "You don't remember, you was too little. I grew up watchin' that woman cater to Daddy like he was a king. She didn't start gettin' uppity until he started hittin' the bottle harder, and that's why he killed her. You can count on that, little bro."

"Man, fuckin' listen to yerself! This ain't goddamn 1940, Merle—"

"Listen to _yerself!_ I didn't raise you like this!"

"Quit that shit! You never raised a damn thing!" Daryl seethed. "Fuckin' woods raised me. I raised me. And Sarah ain't some bar bitch. She's better. Think I won't admit yer right? Ya are, I don't deserve her, for damn sure."

"Never thought I'd see the day my own brother turned into a pussy over some cornpone cooze," Merle laughed joylessly.

"I don't hafta push a woman down to feel like a man!"

Merle clenched a fist and just about raised it, but beyond Daryl's head he could see the sheriff standing on top of that Winnebago, staring.

"Hey Sarah, them two get along?" Shane called, pointing. She looked up, then over, then frowned.

"Usually thick as thieves. . ." she murmured. She watched Merle walk away, and Daryl quickly making his way toward her. Fucking wonderful, just as she'd gotten the camp people to lighten up and stop looking at her like a freak from the fifth dimension. "Hey, what's up?"

He shrugged, stiff arm coming around her back. He was immensely, horribly uncomfortable, showing affection in front of so many strangers, but hell, he had to make a good impression somehow, especially after the fallout earlier that day. Didn't want to embarrass her. Besides, that cop needed to see he wasn't a dick to her.

"You okay?" Sarah whispered, forehead close to his. He nodded.

"Come to see what was the hold up, woman."

"You'll wait! It's not done yet, I'm tryin' to help. . ." Sarah cut herself off, remembering he didn't want her working like this. "You know, finishing touches, getting to know the ladies. . .This is Amy, Carol, Andrea. . .Lori. . ."

Daryl nodded at them, but didn't look at them directly. He knew how they were looking at him. Could feel it, could feel their burning eyes on his face.

"Everyone, this is Daryl. I don't know who all knows him yet. We're getting married. He and his brother trapped this rabbit." Sarah smiled at him proudly. It helped. A bit. He cleared his throat, ready to go, but the grey-haired lady spoke.

"Thank you, Daryl. We'll be making a stew tomorrow. We can't thank you enough."

He nodded again. "Yeah, I uh. . .I go out tomorrow. To hunt, I mean. Try to get. . .fuck if I know, a deer?"

God, why couldn't he stop grunting like a fucking caveman? His heart beat in his ears and he kept reminding himself he had to behave, had to behave god_damn_ it. Hadn't he embarrassed himself enough? It dawned on him suddenly what Sarah said. Did she say they were getting married? Holy shit, she was smiling at him in front of other people. The corners of his mouth quirked upward briefly.

"I'll letcha gossip," he said, patting her back. Unable to help the Dixon side of himself, he lowered his hand and squeezed. He smirked. "In a bit?"

Sarah nodded, still smiling. She was years used to that by now. "Yeah, I'll be there shortly. Wash that blood outta your hair!"

He scoffed, not turning back as he walked away. "Damn needy woman."

Sarah sat down again next to Carol and sighed happily. She looked up when she heard Andrea clicking. "What?"

"How can you just let him treat you like that?" Andrea asked, leaning closer to her. "How did you two even get together?"

Sarah's eyes widened. "Shit, we always do that. Always have. It's how we flirt, I guess. In a perverse sort of way. We actually kinda just got back together, so I. . ."

"They're only teasing, Andrea," the younger blonde said, playfully sneering at her sister, thankfully speaking before Sarah had to go any further. Amy pulled napkins out of her backpack and set them by the plates. "You'd know it if you ever had a serious boyfriend."

"Hey, I have so—"

"It's finished," Carol announced suddenly. Sarah realized suddenly that Andrea wasn't the only one upset by Daryl. The poor woman was almost shaking. "Can someone let the other men know? Here Sarah, your husband bagged this, take his to him first."

The nurse knew damn well it was more that Carol was simply ready to be rid of her and any reminder of the dirty men a hundred yards away, and she felt somewhat pissed and vaguely brow-beaten. She forced herself to smile. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Peletier. I'll thank him for you again."

A hand stopped her from moving any further on her way to their tents and she nearly dropped the small pot she was carrying. She opened her mouth to scream, but Shane shushed her.

"Listen, I just wanted to let you know I meant you no harm and no disrespect. All I wanted to do was mind your safety. Some habits never die," he laughed softly. He was looking up at her, his head lowered, and she felt badly for him. Sighing, she reached out and patted his shoulder.

"I know. I understand. I've got to get my man fed, if you don't mind."

"He a good man to you?" Shane asked more soberly, though he didn't lose his faint smile. She nodded. "Then that's good enough for me. I'll be seein' ya around soon, I'm sure. Might need my blood pressure taken, with your brother-in-law floatin' around."

Sarah found her good man, sopping wet head and all, poking at their little fire again. She grabbed a handful of the soaking hair from behind, pulling his head gently.

"Got dinner," she said, sitting beside him. He shoved her playfully when she set the food down.

"Talkin' to that damn cop again. Ooh-wee, I better put you over my knee."

"I dare you!"

Daryl dragged her over his own body and she squealed. "Daryl Lucas!"

"You know a Dixon don't back down on bets and dares, woman," he taunted, pulling his arm back with force. Sarah quickly squinted her eyes and grit her teeth, waiting, but all that fell was a gentle pat on her ass and she could hear him chuckling. "Awww, poor thang."

"Oh, you think you're so fucking funny!" Sarah chastised, pouring stew into a plastic bowl. When she looked to Merle's tent, Daryl shook his head at her. Old asshole had stomped off yet again, no doubt to hit the bag, and he was just gonna have to reheat his dinner later. Sarah shrugged. "Let me get you some water."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Ah, I'm thrilled with the messages and favorites and stuff. Thanks so much! I'm glad to see that some of you are raising very appropriate questions, that means I'm doing my job well. Please feel free to question away, I love knowing what goes through your minds while you read this! As always, reviews are very nice. :)

"So you really think we'll be all right?" Sarah whispered in the dark. Moonlight still cast a glow across her man's features in their tent, and she watched carefully. His chest rose and fell sharply.

"I don't know how many times I gotta tell you it's not your place to worry."

Sarah scoffed.

"I'm serious, it ain't. Woman shouldn't ever have to worry after her own safety, and don't go gettin' all kinds of stupid ideas just because I'm gonna teach ya how to use a gun. You may not _need_ to worry about keepin' yourself safe, but I wouldn't be no kind of man if I let you be helpless." Daryl folded his arms behind his head.

"I'm not helpless!" Sarah cried out defensively. Daryl rolled his eyes. "I'm not! I fought those things off at the hospital until Merle came after me—"

"I sent him," Daryl was quick to remind her.

"Whatever, that's not the point."

"How was ol' Scott, by the way?"

Sarah took a deep breath now. "You're kidding."

"No, I ain't. You done kicked me right in the fuckin' ego with that shit and you're gonna fix it." Daryl reached over and dragged her closer. "I ain't mad. I just wanna know what happened. Well, actually, I'm pissed and jealous as shit. But tell me anyway."

Sarah shrugged a few times, trying to find the right words. "About average, I suppose. Nothin' like you."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean?" Daryl snapped.

"Daryl, this is really so unnecessary. . ."

"Nah, it ain't. Yer gonna tell me what I wanna know and I'm gonna fuck you until you can't stand up right. Now get on with it."

Sarah's eyes widened. "_Daryl_!"

She saw a twinge of amusement in his features. "I'm serious, yer gonna be limpin' around that camp tomorrow if I have anythin' to do with it."

"Well. . .I dunno. Didn't you have another girl?"

"Fuck no, I did not. You were still fuckin' wearin' me out a couple nights of week, leadin' me on that we was gettin' back together. Get on with it."

Sarah closed her eyes, blushing furiously. "Don't talk about me like I'm some kind of freak for liking sex."

"Sarah."

"Okay, okay! He used to drive me home some nights and a couple of times I'd invite him in so I didn't have to sit up thinkin' about you—"

"It was more than once?" Daryl shouted, raising up on his elbow. Sarah held her hand over his mouth.

"Ssh! Yes!"

Daryl moved over her immediately, pinning her underneath him. "_Ohhh_, woman. . ."

"Daryl, it wasn't like you think. It ain't like I cheated on you—"

"You were still fuckin' me several times a week! When did you have _time_ with as much as you worked? Jesus fuckin' Christ, don't they make medicine for people like you?" he hissed, hands tightly gripping her little wrists. Sarah unconsciously arched her back.

"Don't talk about me like that!" Sarah breathlessly exclaimed, squirming to try and feel more of him.

"Look at you right now, Sarah Claire! Good God, woman."

"It's a nice fucking stress reliever, okay? What the fuck have you got to complain about anyway? I'm not gonna be with another man—"

"Yer goddamn right, yer not. Not after I'm through with ya. You won't ever think you may need another one ever again." Daryl trapped her wrists with one hand now, the other rough palm already pushing up her T-shirt. Sarah gasped and tensed. Fuck, she loved a man with callouses.

"If you wanna know, he was nothin' like you. I didn't even know him all that well and he wanted to hang out all the time, take me out to dinner, started sending flowers to me at work. . ." Sarah whispered, moving her body along with his hand to get the most of the sensations. Daryl scoffed. Sumbitch wasn't what this one here needed at all. "And it never really felt right, anyway. I always felt like a bitch for it."

"Ya fuckin' were," Daryl said unapologetically, grinding their hips together forcefully. "I ain't done with you, now, woman."

"What else could you possibly wanna know?" Sarah breathed, eyes closed.

"Did _he_ ever get you like this?" Daryl asked, his own breathing somewhat perturbed. He pinched one of her nipples a little sharply.

"Pissed off? Yeah," Sarah grunted. He laughed an inch away from her face.

"Oh, you must not know what yer in for."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

Just like that, Sarah found herself jerked up to a sitting position, Daryl's one hand fisting her hair while the other pulled at the shorts she wore to sleep in. _Whoa._

"Are you sorry?" Daryl asked, sliding the rest of her clothes past her ankles and off. She nodded profusely, honestly. "Good. Then we won't talk about it again."

God, it'd been so long since she'd been kissed like this, she mused, playing along meekly for him. There was a lot of anger, a lot of hurt behind what he was doing, but it would be all right in the end. Even if she couldn't walk properly. He needed it to be like this tonight.

Daryl held her face close to his, making sure she couldn't so much as struggle. When this was over with, he'd consider it a clean slate. He'd stick to his word about that. For now, though, the anger was still roiling around wildly inside his mind and body. He couldn't really remember what exactly the little spitfuck looked like, but the vague recollection he had of Scott Rankin's bleached smile and dark blond hair made all of the fire in him blossom and spread. He pulled away, panting, to hastily pull her top over her head. He stared for a moment, mapping out his plan of action, before he settled on step one. He didn't care how pissed she'd be in the morning.

Sarah gasped when he attached himself to her neck, sucking hard enough to almost be painful. The breath she let out was slow and shuddering, her fingernails digging into the man's ribcage. "I'm gonna fall. . ."

Daryl ignored the comment, because he knew she wouldn't. He had an arm around her shoulders and a hand gripping at her hip to keep her still. She just didn't seem to get that he had what it took to support her in every way possible, but she sure as shit would soon. He suddenly pushed her until she did fall back against the air mattress. Thank God she'd liked camping so much. Sarah watched breathlessly as he undid his belt.

"Woman, I wasn't kiddin' when I said you won't be able to think of another man again," he began, and she had to hide a little smirk of anticipation. Apparently she didn't do it so well, for he growled and grabbed hold of her thighs so hard she knew there'd be little fingerprint bruises the next morning. She bit down on her lip to keep from repeating that mistake. "Better take a deep breath, now."

Sarah did so a little too late; Daryl had already shoved himself inside of her roughly, so it came as more of a labored wheeze than a proper intake of breath.

"Goddamn," he grunted, pulling her thigh up over his waist. He looked up at her face then and gripped her by the hair on the back of her head.

"You knew I was the jealous type," he muttered gravelly above her throat, a hard thrust underscoring every other word. Sarah indeed felt her hip joints aching already, felt the tremble in her thighs. She nodded, her own hands desperate to find purchase on the planes of muscle on his back. One of her fingers grazed against a particularly thick, corded scar and Daryl gripped both of her hips in response, pushing even harder against her.

"You knew if I ever found out another man put his hands on what's mine. . ."

Sarah's gasps were shrill out in the spring air, but Daryl didn't really give a shit how loud she got. Merle, he knew, was on top of the RV, selected for watch mostly for sexual harassment and for threatening to kill that black guy, and the others were far enough away that it wouldn't bother them much. He nearly lost it himself when he felt her spasm and shake momentarily, but set his jaw and kept on.

"_Daryl_—"

"I ain't done with you just yet, woman." Daryl kissed her collarbone before biting down. "Hold onto me, now."

Merle sat rather than stood, hands trembling only slightly with the chemicals in his system. Goddamn fire made it difficult to see very far. At least Daryl had enough fucking sense to snuff theirs out so whoever was on watch could fuckin' _see _what was coming out the woods.

It'd finally quieted down over there, he noticed, and he got to thinking about what he and Daryl had argued over earlier. His hand tightened where it rested on his rifle and he almost shot when he saw something approaching the RV.

"Hey," Sarah called up to him, looking like she'd been to war. He laughed at her openly, but mentally chastised himself for being so inattentive to his surroundings. Dixons simply didn't do such a thing. Sarah rolled her eyes. "Can I join you a minute?"

"Girl, entire fuckin' camp heard ya. Shouldn't you be tendin' to whatever wounds you inflicted on that poor boy?" Merle asked, not so inclined to have company just now.

Sarah scoffed. "Believe me, _he_ did this to _me_. I'm comin' up, make way."

Merle closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, sucking his teeth. "What the fuck is it? Whaddaya want?"

"Jesus, Merle," Sarah whispered, careful not to get too close. "Can you calm down a minute? I just wanted to say sorry."

"Don't give a shit. G'night."

"Even if I give you this?" Sarah taunted. He heard a wrapper in her hands and turned slightly – a goddamn Butterfinger. Fucking hell, where'd she get hold of one of those? "Come on, since when could you resist a Merley Snack?"

Merle grunted. "Git yer sorry ass over here, bitch."

Sarah snickered softly and sat herself carefully on her brother-in-law's knee, for lack of other seating. "That wasn't very creative. 'Bitch'? You must not be too mad this time."

"Mad enough to beat yer fuckin' ass, earlier," he murmured through a mouthful of crispety, crunchety goodness.

"I refuse to believe such a thing," Sarah flashed him a grin. "Look, I really am sorry. Bad fucking day."

"Bad day my ass, 'least yer gettin' laid, even if it _is_ Daryl."

Sarah laughed off his cruelty again. Daryl'd told her years ago not to bother sticking up for him when it came to Merle. "So how much did you do earlier?"

Merle's glare hardened, but it was safe enough to talk about this sort of thing with her, given their history and all. "A half gram."

Sarah hissed sharply, but knew better than to say another fucking word on the subject. Inwardly though, she groaned. His stash was going to run out fast at this rate, and when it did, she had no idea what they would do with him. Withdrawals would be one thing, but his anger would probably be the truest tempest. She smiled at him suddenly, hand running over his scalp.

"Your Jew 'fro is about to puff out, want me to shave it for you?" she asked. Merle scoffed and shoved at her gently enough to let her know he wasn't going to be too much of a danger tonight. If anything did it, it would've been that.

"Yeah, guess so. Need to cut that scraggly shit off 'a Daryl's head too. He's poorly lookin' enough just with that face 'a his. And pluck yer fuckin' eyebrows, y'ugly cunt."

Sarah draped an arm casually around his shoulders. "His hair ain't so bad right now. 'Sides, he doesn't like anyone but him doing that, but I don't think we have much in the way of mirrors for him to do so. He'll eventually ask himself. What?"

Merle leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Sarah was struck by how much older he looked than he actually was.

"Woman, don't ever talk to me like that again."

"Jew 'fro? You call it that."

"At that fuckin' tent. Here I am tryin' to help my little bro keep his woman safe and she screams like a fuckin' banshee about it. Don't be such a bitch, hear?"

Sarah nodded. "I said I was sooorry."

"Not again."

"Okay."

Merle thumped her hard on the side of her breast and she jumped, gasping.

"There. We even now, but that's just 'cause yer family and ya ain't got a swingin' dick so I can't do worse, understood?" Merle had made a hard decision not to take this matter into his own hands, putting this woman in her place. But he'd talked to his little brother about it, who, he was sure, in spite of his idiotic objections, would wise up and do what was right. Besides, Merle might do plenty of things differently than most folks, but he wasn't about to stand between a man and his wife. Her shitty attitude and mouthiness were Daryl's problems to handle now that they'd hooked up again.

He would, however, be bringing this up to Daryl again before long.

"Merle," Sarah said softly, breaking him from his line of thought. He grunted his acknowledgement. "We gotta make sure they don't find out."

He simply nodded, understanding immediately what she meant.

"We met at a bar," Sarah suggested. It was half of the truth, anyway. "And he was there, too."

Merle looked at her. "What? Real story too embarrassing fer 'im?"

"Yes, absolutely."

Merle laughed, head leaned over the back of the lawn chair. "Whatever, little sis."

"You know how he is," Sarah said, digging cigarettes out of the little purse she brought with her. "Here."

They smoked in silence and again the woman began to feel a bit of normalcy in this strange situation. She was so easily transported to sitting outside Eddie's, holy shit, nearly _six_ years ago, actually, Merle laughing at her when she asked for a helmet when they'd thrown their still-fuming filters to the asphalt. She'd been much, much more afraid of him back then. Her head drifted in the direction of that damn bike where it was parked close to Daryl's truck and a pang of nostalgia and longing hit her chest. She sighed.

"What?"

"Just thinkin' about the first time you ever put me on that bike and kidnapped me to take me to the house in the woods." The words were far too risky for others to hear, but he chuckled anyway.

"Pain in the ass then, pain in the dick now, as they say."

"Oh whatever, I'm precious."

Merle shoved her out of his lap then, laughing when she hit the metal roof of the Winnebago. "Dick!"

"Hey speakin' of, s'long as we're reminiscing and getting' all touchy-feely, remember the first time I walked in on my little brother fuckin' you?" Merle's tone was so sincere, Sarah had to slap a hand over her mouth to drown out her laughter. "Sounded like a waterslide. _Shick shick shick_."

Sarah doubled over her legs, both hands over her mouth now. He shook his head at her, smirking.

"Little sister, I think you might be somethin' of a whore," he went on, prodding at her with the tip of his boot.

"Hey!" she whispered loudly, stomach and cheeks hurting from laughter.

"Well, his whore. But yer still a whore. Done scarred that poor kid fer life. H' told me once he had to keep punchin' himself in the leg to stay awake at work."

"God, why does he tell people about this shit?"

"Y'think Daryl's ever had a woman so crazy over his cock he can't get any sleep? I'd brag too, if I had a face like that and was in the same situation, as it were. I can hear him snorin' from over here. Yer a fuckin' animal. That ain't natural for a woman. Freak."

Sarah laughed and smacked at his leg. "Ass! I can't help if your little brother's irresistible."

Merle scoffed dramatically. "I've seen that kid, bitch, you blind?"

"He's only got the most gorgeous body—"

"Ever seen that spot where I stabbed him when we was kids? True story. Huntin' accident, scout's honor."

"And that _dick_—"

"Holy shit, woman, ain'tcha got an ounce of shame?" Merle laughed, shoving her with his boot again. "Go on, 'fore that kid has a fuckin' conniption fit 'bout you wanderin' off again. Git."

"Hold on now, I needed to talk to you about somethin'," Sarah said, scootching backward.

"Yeah? Wassat?"

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A wave of nausea hit as she even let the thought entire her mind. Nope, he wouldn't take that well at all.

"Aw, it can wait for later," she stood. "G'night."

Merle waved her off, shit-eating grin shining at that huge purple mark on her neck. She'd be bitching over that all morning.

Sarah tried her best to walk quietly to the other side of camp, though it got darker as she progressed. When she finally unzipped her tent, she was startled to see Daryl sitting up on the air mattress.

"Hey," she whispered, already nervous about his reaction to her being out.

"You been with Merle?" Daryl asked her after a good minute. She finally moved toward their pile of belongings to stash her bag and nodded.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. I'm sorry."

Daryl leaned over the edge of the mattress and reached into his discarded jean pocket. He held out a knife for her. "Here, keep this with you all the time. Just in case. If Merle's on watch, most likely he's lookin' out in this direction and would see anything that would try and attack you, anyway. You're good to go talk with him, just tell me first and take yer knife."

"Okay, baby." Sarah pulled her shirt over her head. She turned back to Daryl. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He shrugged and looked down, hands fumbling with the old blanket over him. "Kinda feel shitty."

"About what?" she asked, joining him. She put her fingers through his hair.

"Hurtin' you like that earlier."

"It didn't hurt."

"Really?" he asked, looking up at her. She shook her head.

"Nah. You weren't tryin' to, were ya?"

"Hell no. I just know I was. . .y'know. Little rough. And I woke up and you was gone. I could kinda hear you talkin' and laughin' with him, though. Should be more quiet." Daryl patted her knee.

"Yeah, for sure." Sarah yawned. "Let's get some sleep, I know you're gonna be up early."

"You, too. Guess how yer learnin' to shoot?"

"No, if anything I gotta wash our clothes," Sarah insisted. "I'm not sure it's safe to learn that just yet, to be honest. I know Shane doesn't want anybody shootin' a gun unless we hafta—"

"Hey, _Shane_ don't have a thing to do with this. Shane don't get to tell me how to take care of mine."

Sarah held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm just tryin' to keep from making new enemies here. He fucking hates y'all's guts, y'know."

"I don't give a motherfuck about what that guy thinks. If you'd rather do laundry in the morning, that's fine I guess, so long as you ain't doin' no other man's, but don't fuckin' hide behind Shane." Daryl rolled onto his side.

"Oh, you are so worried that I'm gonna wash some other man's collars," Sarah teased, pressed against his back.

"Maybe," he snapped. She smiled and kissed the back of his neck.

"I promise the only collars I'll ever wash are yours. Night, baby."

"Oh, you talk so much."


	4. Chapter 4

Shane got up when it was time for the watch to switch. Merle Dixon climbed down from the top of the RV as soon as Glenn emerged from within to relieve him. The young Asian tried smiling at the hardened older man, but he earned himself only a sneer.

"You ever seen a grown man stupid enough to use the barrel of a rifle to scratch his ass?" Shane asked Dale, taking a meager sip of water to wet his whistle. Dale shook his head and put on his hat.

"Shane, last night Sarah got on top of the RV with Merle," the older man began, looking the officer pointedly in the eye. Shane blinked, looking him over a moment, before cocking his head to the side and walking toward the furthest part of camp from where the Dixons were located.

"I take it some interesting words were exchanged?" Shane asked, leaning against a tree.

"Well, I could only hear so much of what was going on, but I gathered something you. . .might like to hear. It's strange. She kept saying she didn't want anyone to find out about something, and later she talked about how she remembered the first time she rode on his bike and he took her home." Dale scratched at the back of his neck. "I just don't understand what good that could possibly be. I didn't want to think so, but. . .I don't know, maybe she's formed some kind of attachment over the years simply because she wasn't given a choice? If Merle had her first and then passed her along to his brother. . ."

Shane spotted the blue and white truck in the distance and let his eyes rest there, eyebrows drawn. "I'm not sure. . .maybe a little too extreme. But the truth lies somewhere in between, don't it? I gotta tell ya, brother, I don't really trust what she says about 'em. I think she's protecting their image, shitty as it already is."

"See, that's another thing that confuses me. Merle's _language_ when he spoke to this woman was unreal. I couldn't fathom even saying half of those words in the presence of a lady," Dale murmured. "Like it was nothing to say such crude things to someone he called 'little sis'."

Shane's gut turned. "Ugh. . .man, that dude is creepy as hell."

"Yeah, it was all so bizarre. He talks like that to both of them. He doesn't seem to think much about his own brother, either. Looking at Daryl Dixon, I can't imagine saying a word against him, but that brother of his talks to him like an animal. Even to the man's. . .wife." Dale shrugged his shoulders, overcome by his own discomfort with the situation. "I don't know what exactly to think about all of this, I just thought it was worth noting. Merle's got a face you'd expect to see on the evening news, and frankly, I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do, if push came to shove."

Shane nodded and patted the old man's shoulder. "I thank you, brother. Can't stand to see somethin' happen to that poor girl. I'll get to the bottom of it shortly. I think after yesterday, they're a little too riled up to address this just yet. I'm not sayin' I'm gonna let them rule the roost and run wild, but you saw them yesterday, guns 'n glory all up in my tent. Need to let things settle a bit before I go pokin' around again. I told her I'd take her word about it, so better let them get the chance to fuck up a bit. Don't want her losing faith in the local authorities, now do I?

"I'm off to drum up s'more water," Shane looked away now and started collecting empty containers. "I'm guessin' your watch starts at noon? Who's after?"

This time it was Dale's eyes that shifted to the east, where he saw two zipped tents. "Daryl."

Sarah awoke abruptly at the rustling noises around her, but Daryl quickly came to view with a finger to his lip.

"Just me," he whispered, attaching his knife to his belt. She nodded and closed her eyes again. "Now woman, ya gonna do laundry or come learn to shoot? Can't sleep in all day, not when I head out. I don't want you in here by yerself, I done told you."

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how bad my body hurts right now? You're a fuckin' _beast_." The woman rolled onto her stomach, still half-asleep.

"Sarah Claire, you gotta be in class in twenty minutes."

"Oh, that's just fuckin' cruel!" Sarah cried after reflexively jumping off the mattress. He smirked and held her knife out to her.

"Be a good girl, now."

"What, I don't get my morning coffee?" Sarah asked, kissing the spot below his ear. He almost laughed.

"Damn, woman, y'just told me your body hurts. Get on, I gotta go out there and see what I can't find."

"Merle killed a rabbit!" Sarah stammered.

Daryl danced away from her grabby hands. "Later, woman. You need to take it easy. And uh. . .wear a scarf."

Before Sarah even had time to question what he'd said, Daryl had grabbed his bow and taken off. Remembering something from the night before, she dove for her purse to retrieve a compact. "Son of a _bitch_."

As though she had a fucking scarf. Sarah dressed quickly, completely over the idea of 'coffee' with Daryl for the morning, and tried to prop up the tiny mirror on a pile of Daryl's boots to maybe come up with a way to hide the ugly purple blotch on her neck with her hair. His revenge, it lingered.

The woman sat down in front of their things to make heads or tails of what really needed to be done. Looking at the bags, she could see automatically that Daryl had packed far more of her belongings than his, and he had probably broken into her apartment to do so. There was no way she'd had this much shit left at their house. She smiled suddenly, forgetting her annoyance with the man as a wave of curiosity washed over her: What sorts of things would Daryl pack for her, given the end of the world?

One bag seemed like he'd just raided her underwear drawer, with all assortments of Victoria's Secret panties and a few bras that almost made her blush to think of Daryl rifling through. Pretty much every sock she owned, some UA ColdGear, condoms. . .there was that blush again. Cocky bastard.

Bag two was filled to the brim with a collection of old T-shirts and shorts she'd owned for numerous years, along with her daddy's rodeo buckle, ticket stubs for different movies she'd dragged Daryl to. . .

Sarah zipped up the bag suddenly and shoved it back with the rest. Even if they were together again, it was still embarrassing as hell to think about him finding the things she should have gotten rid of if she intended for them to stay broken up. No need to go thinking about all of those things right now. There was a pile of grimy jeans and assorted other clothing items to attend to by the flap of the tent. Breakfast was a far thought from her mind.

She had noticed the other women scrubbing in the quarry, but she honestly figured it would do a little better to wash these out with running water. The danger in that, however, was being alone down the creek where no one got their water from. Daryl was out hunting to the north west of camp, Merle was snoring loudly from his tent, Glenn stood atop the RV on his watch duty, she didn't trust that one ornery-looking fucker, Dale was no where to be seen. . .

She heard a noise coming up the trail along the side of the hills and saw Shane's Jeep. He must've made another run for fresher, hopefully safer water. Nah, no way he'd take time out of his day to watch over her while she beat the dirt out of Daryl's Dungarees. Hopefully she'd be able to work out something later, but for now it seemed her best bet for safety was to bite the bullet and wash the clothes in still water.

"Hey, we don't usually do the laundry this early," called a voice as Sarah made her way to the bank. Lori held a stack of dirty plates in her hands and made to pass them off to her. "You can take these instead—"

"I've got to wash these now, thanks. I'll try to help out later, but I've got other things to worry about now." Sarah readjusted the load in her arms and trudged on. She had soap, she had a broad scrub brush from her kitchen, she could conquer the world.

A half hour later she was still working and it almost seemed hopeless to get the last bit of blood out of the knee on Daryl's favorite pair of cargo pants. She'd long given up on staying up on her knees while she scrubbed and simply sat in the water. Why the fuck not?

"It might help if you use some of this natural soap on grunge like that," she heard a voice from behind her. Sarah's head whipped around quickly to see Carol approaching with her own basket of laundry and work essentials. The aging housewife sat on a rock just above the water to set her own skint knuckles to work.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, splashing a bit as she moved closer. Carol handed her a brown bar of soap.

"This is better for getting organic stains out of cotton like that. Try rubbing it directly on the stain and letting that pair soak a bit while you work on others. You can sit on it to keep it from floating away, since you're in the water."

Sarah chuckled softly and let her hands sink below the cool surface. "I guess I look pretty retarded. I'm just no good at this kind of stuff, I guess. Daryl's done his own laundry since he was six."

"What? Really?" Carol asked, blue eyes blinking quickly a few times. "I never pegged a guy like Daryl to do that kind of thing."

"He also went without home-cooked dinners for a while, when I finished up my clinicals. I tried my best, I mean. . ." Sarah mumbled, finding his shirts much easier to work with. "He and Hot Pockets got very well acquainted. He never really cared, I guess. Just said 'damn woman, I lived before I met you'."

"Reminds me a lot of Ed when we were younger," Carol said almost wistfully. Sarah furrowed her brow, but said nothing. "I mean the way he's outdoorsy and all."

"Oh. He's always been like that," Sarah dismissed. "Always filthy. In the five years I've known him, six maybe, I've only seen him wear a tie once, and that was to my mama's funeral."

"How sweet of him to be so considerate," Carol commented. Sarah didn't like the sickly sweetness of the woman's voice, how it was tinged with a decadent sort of sadness.

"It's what you do," Sarah went on flopping ripped-sleeve shirts around the surface of the water in frustration. "I will never understand how he gets so nasty. Merle could do _ballet_ in those woods and not get near as filthy. About two years ago, I finally got my way and we got some of those super heavy duty Kenmores. Damn front-loading son of a bitch. He didn't even know how to _use_ it for two weeks."

Carol laughed softly. "I miss my old Maytag back home. Worked wonders for Sophia's dirt. That little girl could rival Daryl, with the grass stains on her pants."

"Your daughter? I'm glad she has other kids to play with. You know where to come to if she ever needs any kind of medical attention. I wasn't field trained by any means, but I _have_ been working in Atlanta for years. . ."

"You two gonna cackle and crow all day or ya gonna get some fuckin' work done?"

Sarah turned around quickly and saw a broad-shouldered man approaching. Ed.

"Just trying to help Sarah here with her husband's jeans," Carol meekly called to him with a practiced smile. With as fearful as Sarah could tell Carol was of her husband, she decided to keep her mouth shut. She might be able to handle Daryl and Merle, but that had come from years of experience. No way would she start pickin' fights with this big ol' bastard. Neither of them spoke for some time, which seemed to satisfy Ed, who left in the direction of the campfire.

"He always like that?" Sarah whispered, picking up her scrub brush again. Carol avoided her eyes and quickly finished up the last few of her daughter's shirts and made her way back to the camp. Sarah sighed, throwing another shirt into her 'somewhat clean' pile. When she picked up the next in line, she smiled. She could remember picking that shirt out for him for his birthday. He'd even refrained from ripping the sleeves off for a good three weeks.

"Good Lord, girl, what happened to your neck?"

Sarah jumped, dropping the green shirt in her lap.

"Goddamn it! What is with you people sneaking up on me?" she asked, grasping her chest. Shane squatted down beside her and moved her hair out of the way. "Hey!"

"Now Ms. Sarah, I apologize. It looks like a big ol' bruise from a ways away," the cop said, trying his best to smooth it over with a smile. He passed her the half-liter of water he'd sought her out to bring her. Sarah knocked him off balance so that he landed with a splash in the shallow water.

"You are the nosiest man I think I've ever met!" she exclaimed, examining the shirt again for dirt. Instead of getting angry as she'd anticipated, Shane laughed and splashed at her.

"I didn't mean nothin' by it, Ms. Sarah. Think you'll ever f'rgive me?" he asked, resorting to jostling her shoulder now. "Whatcha say we go for a swim, huh? I been thinkin' about catchin' frogs so we can fry up some legs."

"Frog legs?" Sarah's eyes widened.

"Aww, ya ain't squeamish are ya?" Shane winked.

"I haven't had frog legs in forever!" Sarah exclaimed, grin spread across her face. "Daryl will eat a lot of things, but frogs ain't one of 'em. Usually, I guess if he was hungry enough. Merle was the one that went giggin' with me all the time."

"Yer shittin' me! Pretty little Atlanta nurse diggin' around in the mud for frogs?" Shane splashed at her again.

"I did it growing up. I'm not from Atlanta, ya know. My brother taught me. He tried to teach me how to noodle too, but no way am I gonna let a mean ol' catfish bite down on my little arm. I'm not much for hunting either, hard as Daryl tried. But I'll fish the normal way, sometimes. Again, that was really more Merle's thing. One time I woke up in his boat with him, I shit you not. Motherfucker used to kidnap me all the time. Shouldn't you be makin' yourself useful, sheriff?"

"I am! Protecting and serving." Shane waded out into the water. "Brrruh. This water's cold, girl, I don't know how you're just sittin' in it."

"Not so bad in the shallows, 'sides, I gotta get this done. Haven't had the chance to do any laundry in a loooong time and I don't want it stinking up the tent. Again." Sarah scrubbed more soap against the knee of Daryl's pants. The stain was visibly better and she'd have to remember to thank Carol later.

Shane laughed from where he stood. "That man 'a yours usually comes back lookin' like he rolled around in blood 'n mud."

"I think he might actually be doing that. I don't know. I was just telling Carol earlier I have no idea how he manages to get that way." Sarah sighed. "Guess it's what I get for marrying a good ol' Georgia boy."

"What, y'all have some kind of ceremony I ain't aware of?" Shane called. Sarah furrowed her brow.

"So fucking sorry there, officer, it's just I'm not exactly sure I'm gonna get the wedding I've been planning out for the past twenty years or when the courthouse will be open for me to file paperwork."

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that."

Sarah nearly ripped a hole in a shirt with the force of her scrubbing. Like Daryl could have ever handled a wedding without snarling at the guests and running into the trees anyway, she thought bitterly. She could _see _it. She jumped, feeling a hand on her shoulder that she probably should have expected.

"Sarah, honest. I was just horsin' around," Shane intimated, crouching down beside her again. "Can't stay mad at me. Look at this face."

"It's really hard to figure out where society comes into play now that it's gone. That's all I'm saying. We wanna get it on with and just be married, but. . ." Sarah threw the last pair of jeans into her pile to hang-dry. "Not like anyone here is an ordained minister, so what does it even mean?"

Shane picked up her basket of heavy, wet clothes for her and extended a hand to help her up.

"I'm sorry," she said somewhat defeatedly. "Ignore me when I'm talking, it's best for your health."

"We're all tryin' to figure it out right now, no worries." Shane set the basket down in front of the makeshift lines where Sophia's clothes already hung. "Daryl's due to take watch tonight around six, remind him for me."

Sarah nodded, but pouted inwardly. He wouldn't get back in until she was already sleeping.

"Seein' as he'll be preoccupied, I wonder if you won't mind helpin' me round up some of those juicy frogs we were talkin' about?" Shane asked, leaning against his elbow on a tree. "Nobody else I talked to so far has ever done it, and I don't exactly think ol' Merle will be willin' to keep me company."

"Why not?" Sarah sounded a little more dejected than she meant to.

"Glad to see you're so eager!" the former police officer exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulder. "I guess I'll collect you after dinner. See ya then."

"I didn't mean – ugh, whatever." Sarah hauled wet jeans from the basket one by one, pinning them securely.

Well, there went her morning task. She sighed and looked at her handiwork. She was no Kenmore, but it would have to do. She looked around the camp and saw a horde of people set to their individual tasks with such certainty in what they were doing. Without gunshot wounds, car accidents, or violent assaults, Sarah wasn't exactly sure what to do with herself in this new world.

Well. . .there was one person that could probably use some sort of medical attention, she was sure. With shy steps, Sarah slowly made her way over to Merle's tent, which he'd predictably left only half-zipped. Once close enough, she could hear and see motion inside. She sighed. If he was suddenly awake after having crashed following his watch, that could only mean one thing.

"Hey bro?" she called.

"FUCK OFF."

"At least let me help, Merle."

Sarah felt all of her worries crash over her in those few anxious seconds before the tent was unzipped the rest of the way. The nurse took another moment to steel herself, almost backed away and trotted back toward camp, but stepped inside the tent with the sick man, who zipped it completely closed after her.


	5. Chapter 5

Sarah sat on a makeshift stool before Merle's air mattress, watching him writhe and breathe fitfully. His face was ruddy, his forehead sweaty, and she could almost convince herself that nothing Daryl or anyone else could ever do would break her heart as much as the sight before her. But he was as good as her own brother at this point, end of the world or no, and this was how it was. There'd be no talking about it, no expression of concern, nothing. God forbid.

"Have you had any water yet?" she asked quietly, very careful to keep her face and voice as vacant as possible. He shook his head rapidly.

"Don't want any fuckin' water. Just do it. Can't you see it fuckin' hurts? Stupid fuckin' bitch."

"Can you tell me. . ." Sarah reached out and wiped at the sweat on his face with his bandana. Merle's hand shot out to grasp her arm and she cried out in pain.

"Merle, stop!"

"Can't take it anymore. I'm crawlin' out my skin. Cain't nobody do it like you, now make yerself useful."

Sarah wrenched her arm away from her brother-in-law and massaged the area where dark blue blotches were already forming as she turned away to quietly gather up what she'd need. A few hot tears rolled easily her cheeks and she sniffled before she could stop herself.

"Don'tchoo fuckin' know anythin', ya fuckin' stupid ass whore?" Merle seethed at the sound, fists clenched at his sides as his entire body tensed. "Dixons don't do that shit. Quiet yer fuckin' face 'fore I give ya a reason to. I'm not lettin' a dumb cooze like you waltz into my family and give it a bad name. I done talked to Daryl about that shit."

Sarah poured a bit of water into the cap of her bottle and reached inside the duffel bag chockfull of every pharmaceutical and street drug she could even name. God, where did it all even come from?

"What's the fuckin' hold up?"

Sarah leaned over her lap, hand over her mouth to keep the noise to herself as her face crumpled. She took only a second for herself before taking a fresh sharp from one of the containers he'd grabbed before they left the ER and finishing this filthy fucking job that she hated more than anything, that she'd been forced to take on from time to time for _years_. He wasn't going to get what he wanted this time. She couldn't handle another minute of Meth Merle.

He seemed to calm down a touch when he saw the needle, and he didn't even put up a fuss when she thumped around his arm or tore open an alcohol pad with her teeth to clean his skin properly.

"Don't look," she barely whispered, but of course he did, as though he wouldn't believe it were happening any other way. She watched his eyes widen and dilate when he realized what was in that syringe, but it was too late.

He shivered at the coldness in his vein. "I didn't ask fer that, woman."

Sarah glared down at him with absolutely no resolve as she wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, feeling a sickness she couldn't name nor give in to. He gazed blankly at her face and Sarah could see it happening, see the way his eyes relaxed and the way his muscles all fell against the mattress.

"I hate you," she said, her voice shaking. It only took half a second for that utter bullshit lie to break the nurse the rest of the way down. It wasn't true, not true at all, and in a perverse way, that was why she did this for him every time he asked. For some reason, she'd thought maybe the world ending and dead folks trying to make them dinner would change all the things she'd never been able to when times were normal. But no, Merle remained distressingly, infuriatingly static in the midst of all the chaos. It _hurt._

"Naaaah," Merle drawled, pulling her down against him. She knew the little ritual well, but it usually didn't go this way. It'd certainly never happened in a tent before.

He'd told her once, very long ago when severely intoxicated, that he did this 'thing' because he always felt anchored and solid then. He was quick to say afterward that it sure as hell didn't happen because he gave a shit about her.

Sarah sighed and let go now that there was nothing left to do, knowing Merle was far from caring if she cried on his account at a moment like this. He was the paragon of selfishness, Merle. He could talk shit to the only woman that'd ever loved him in any sense of the word, give her no choice but to enable his drug habits to such an extreme degree, and then happily _exist_ in a false sense of complete rapture while said woman cried helplessly beside him. Go figure.

"Shoulda seen 'im," he said after the euphoria had set in, twisting his finger in her hair absently.

"What?" Sarah asked, face against his shirt.

"Ol' Cornbread. He like ta fell on his ass 'other night right in the middle of Eddie's."

Sarah squinted her eyes shut as she listened to the same story she'd been hearing for at least eighteen months now. "That so?"

"Yeah. Was tryin' to get Myrna back at his place."

"Hm."

"Cornbread always does stupid shit like 'at. Kinda like Daryl, only not a fuckin' psycho."

"Daryl isn't psycho, Merle. I explained that to you."

"Whatever. He's summin'. You thought he was pretty fuckin' scary, 'member?"

"Yeah, that was a long time ago. We're old now, don't _you _remember?"

"Psh, fuckin' bitch. I ain't old."

"I'm a bitch for pointing out time moves on?"

"Are if I say ya are. Tell me a fuckin' story or shut yer mouth. Tell me a story."

"You heard all my stories by now, Merley."

Merle chuckled softly at the nickname. "Tell me or I'll beat yer fuckin' ass like it needs to be beat. Git on, now."

"One time not too long after we met, you got me shitfaced drunk out at the cabin and I started talkin' about going to Pensacola," Sarah began, not a trace of a tear in her voice now. It never lasted long, not anymore. She'd learned not to let herself be terribly sad over this and also never to tell a story involving Daryl. "So, I'm not sure, I blacked out I know that, and when I come to, I'm in the passenger's seat of my old Camry and you've got fuckin' ZZ Top blasting through the speakers on the interstate. I was terrified."

Merle laughed softly, releasing the woman and rolling away. "I like this'un. Go on."

"Merle, I thought you fuckin' kidnapped me!" Sarah exclaimed, very happy for the lightening of the mood. This she could live with. She took a sip of water, then went on. "I was sorta right. So here I am, screamin' my head off, thinkin' I made a _huge_ mistake in striking that deal with you, and you pull over on the shoulder with the damn emergency lights flashing, somehow producin' a bottle of Wild Turkey outta _nowhere_, saying 'Shit, woman! I was just doin' what you wanted me to! Take a hair offa the dog that bit ya an' shut the fuck up!'"

"I was! Imagine my confusion. Go 'head."

"So after the initial hubbub, I, being young and stupid, didn't make you turn the car around. Here's me and this grown ass man I barely know, bar hoppin' in Pensacola in the middle of damn October. Did I mention said grown ass man had somehow taken me to my apartment and packed _only _bikinis and shorts? Oh, and a windbreaker jacket. I froze my fuckin' ass off. Oh, and that asshole threw nickels at me while I sang karaoke."

"I thought you Mexican girls liked that."

"Could I _be _any whiter? Merle Dixon, I'm Irish as shit and look it."

"So fuckin' sensitive," Merle said, pushing at her until she fell onto the grass below. "I'm goin' to sleep."

"Why did you call me Mexican?" asked the only vaguly red-headed person in the room.

"'Cause ya got a big ass and yer mean as a chola. Go on."

Sarah couldn't help but smile at the forty-odd year old four year old before her. "I'll come check on ya in a bit."

She could ignore the inevitable for as long as he was calm and in no pain. It was easy to ignore the horrifying thought that she'd very skillfully prepared and injected forty milligrams of heroin into her brother's arm not ten minutes ago and put it all away when that glorified persona appeared and they talked about the good old days.

"He didn't tell ya what happen to ol' Everett, did 'e?" Merle asked all of a sudden. Sarah stopped unzipping the tent and looked back at him, pit in her stomach. She'd thought about it, but figured Daryl'd never actually seen the end of the dog they'd had together those four years. Painfully, she'd left Everett with his daddy out on all that land he was used to when she left Daryl.

"N-no."

Merle nodded. "Good."

Sarah stood planted at her spot for a good minute, but Merle was soon snoring. With a deep breath, Sarah pushed her way out of that tent and sealed him up without a second thought. Her destination wasn't far away, though. In her current state, baboon-ass red eyes and a nasty bruise forming on her right forearm, she wasn't fit to be seen. She supposed her only option was to wait around her and Daryl's tent until he returned. She pushed away all the guilt of enabling Merle and being virtually useless so far at camp and looked around at what all she was missing before closing her eyes.

"Goddamn woman, didn' I tell ya not to be in here by yerself?" Daryl cursed, throwing down his crossbow. Sarah jumped.

"What time is it?" she asked, gathering her bearings. She hadn't even meant to drift off.

"Little past noon, I'd say. Hell are ya doin'?" Daryl asked, stalking closer to the bed.

Sarah threw her legs over the side of the bed. "Oh, shit. Shit shit shit shit shit."

"What the fuck is goin' on?" Daryl asked, catching her by the waist. "Hell happened to yer fuckin' arm? Who did that to you?"

"I gotta go check on him!"

Daryl felt his chest tensing. "Fuck'd you do this time? Goddamn, I told you to leave that shit alone. I done _told_ you."

"He's _sick_, Daryl, and you really think it's a good thing for him to be doing this all by himself when there's no where to take him when he ODs? What about hygiene? Keeping him from using the same needles over and over? Think about it! I can't just ignore it when he's too fucked up to-"

"I don't understand how you can do that shit. _That's _what's sick." Daryl picked up his crossbow again and made to leave. "I left somethin' for ya over by the campfire. Ours."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Sarah asked, disappointment clear in her voice. She reached for his arm. "You been gone all day and now you're just gonna walk away? I'm just trying to help him. C'mon, why don't you sit down a minute while I go check and see if he's all right and when I get back we can clean whatever you caught. You got watch tonight and I just wanted. . ." She stopped mid-sentence and shrugged. "I guess if you're mad at me I don't have a right to ask you to sit around and shoot the shit with me."

Daryl caught her hand and took a careful look at her forearm. Definitely Merle's big handprint. "I ain't mad. I don't get why you put yerself in that kind of danger. He ain't as nice as you seem to think. One 'a these days yer gonna regret bein' so buddy-buddy with 'im. He's my kin, I _have_ to deal with him. You don't."

"I think I've known him long enough to get how he is," Sarah defensively pulled her arm back. "He has his way just like you do. You don't really make these people think you're anything but a more quiet Merle, do ya? I can't sit by and watch it happen, Daryl, especially not now. 'Sides, if we're married or whatever, he's my kin too, now."

Daryl shook his head inwardly and shrugged. "I don't think he cares as much as he's jealous of yer attention."

Her face fell. "That's really mean of you to say."

"To who? You? Maybe. Him? Neh, not really."

"You oughtta be ashamed of yourself, with as jealous as you are all the time, even of him."

"I'll come right out and say I get jealous of him sometimes. You been on a mission to save his fuckin' life for the past half decade and he's just been laughin' at ya and pullin' you back to him because he needs you for one reason or the other. Not a whole lotta room for me sometimes, even though I'm the one that actually wants you." Daryl pulled his shoes off. Seems like they were finally going to have this discussion.

"Daryl!" Sarah cried, but she knew it was at least mostly true.

"I ain't sayin' he don't give a shit at all, but you oughtta know it ain't the same for him as it is for you. That's all I really got to say. Don't ask me why 'at is. He's my brother, but I'll be the first to tell you he's an asshole, and that may be all it is. It may just be he's an asshole. In the end, it don't really matter 'cause it is what it is, and I know I can say this 'til I'm blue in the goddamn face, draw ya a diagram, whatever, and you'll still go runnin' any time he calls ya. So," Daryl shrugged emphatically, "fuck else can I say ain't already been said?"

"What makes you think he's so jealous for attention?" Sarah challenged softly. "Merle doesn't need anyone, he just needs things."

Daryl sighed and rubbed at his temple. "Goddamn, for somebody that graduated college you sure are ignorant. Number one rule about Merle is nobody can touch Merle's stuff. Ever met him?"

"Just because I didn't grow up with him – what the hell do you mean, I'm his stuff? I'm not ignorant."

"Yeah, ya are. Damn, am I just tendin' to your fuckin' ego here? Why ya think he always acts like he knows what's best for ya? I know he ain't really done it since. . .ya know, we got. . ."

"Are you serious? You can't say the words 'we got engaged'?"

"Shut the hell up and listen t' me," Daryl almost hollered. "Ya fuckin' talk too damn much. I fuckin' asked you to marry me. I know it happened. It ain't the point. Merle always had a shit fit if I ever touched his stuff or he thought I did and when I got older he'd be pissed if one of his friends took a likin' to me. His way of thinkin' is he found ya first and ya shouldn' have ever even given me the time of day because he may be a self-proclaimed piece of redneck trash, but I'm his kid brother that never joined the Marines, didn't shove everything up his veins and up his nose he could, never saw a jail cell, and just plain ain't Merle. Even told me the most fucked up shit he could about you just so I wouldn't wanna be around you. Try and act like he didn't say every fuckin' embarrassin' thing he could about me to you."

Sarah blinked slowly at her husband. "What are you saying? What. . ."

"I'm sayin' let it be 'cause Merle may like ya, may've dragged ya all through the county and the Chattahoochee river, may've poured more alcohol down yer throat than I can even imagine at this fuckin' point, may've given his blessin' on you taking the Dixon name, but Merle ain't ever gonna give a shit like you do. If it was you strung out in that fuckin' tent – nah, you'da been dead a long time ago. I 'preciate everything you did for my brother 'cause ain't no doubt he woulda wound up back in the state pen without you there to put a stop to all that, I 'preciate you keepin' him on this green Earth as long as ya have, but I look down at that bruise on yer arm and I know yer a fool. And he may be my bro, but I can't stand to see some asshole make a fool of my wife. Take a step back and focus on you and me, fer once."

Sarah stared at him for a long moment. "What happened to Everett, Daryl?"

Something of a pained scowl splashed across her husband's features. "Don't."

"Merle asked me if you'd told me, so I'm guessin' there's a story there. I know you don't wanna tell me because—"

"Good, keep on thinkin' that way, because that ain't something I want you knowin' about. He got et. End of story."

Figures that the most emotion Daryl would show at the end of the world would be over a dog, Sarah thought. She wasn't going to cry again, even if it was heartbreaking to think of those things tearing into her sweet little baby and Daryl's loyal huntin' hound. She sat down next to him on their mattress.

"May as well go on," she said softly, hand on his knee. When he said nothing for several long minutes, she squeezed. "He was mine, too. My baby boy. I deserve to know."

Daryl's hand went to his hair and he leaned down on the elbow on his knee, breathing heavily. "I already sent Merle after you and was gettin' some things from the house. Had an armful of our campin' gear, as you can see all 'round ya right now, and couldn't really see in the dark. All a sudden, Cabb Nelson comes limpin' up not three feet away, and here I am with eighty pounds of gear in my arms and nothin' but my pocket knife. Thought I was gonna be a goner 'fore I even got to you. And then Everett. . .see, I had him in the cab of the truck. . ." Daryl cleared his throat and cleared his face of any emotional trace, but Sarah's hands were both covering her mouth. "No way I was gonna leave him behind. Daisy'd already run off or I'd've had her too. Ol' 'Rett jumped out the truck like you wouldn't believe and knocked that nasty fucker to the ground, I shit you not. But he didn'. . .he didn't know to get away. How could he? Just stood there on top of Cabb's chest, barkin' like crazy, growlin' away, warnin' him about tryin' to hurt his daddy.

"That damn dog was like my own kid. Cabb just grabbed a hold of him and started chewin'. I was froze for a second there, I had no idea they'd eat animals, but I know that was fuckin' stupid of me now. I threw down all that gear in the bed of the truck, puked my guts up off the side of it, and got my crossbow from the driver's seat. I shot Cabb in the head, but Everett. . .wasn't no savin' him, but he was still alive. Looked at me with them big brown eyes. . ."

Sarah leaned her head on Daryl's shoulder and squeezed his arm hard. She didn't want to hear the next part. He cleared his throat again, seeming to understand.

"You always said that dog'd take a bullet for me or Merle. Close enough, I s'pose. I still got his baseball in the glove box. I took it for him, so he wouldn't get bored when his mama wouldn't let him go out huntin' with me." He squeezed her thigh. "'Least I got his mama out safe, I guess, even if she is a pain in my ass."

"Keep it for me, 'kay?" Sarah said, rubbing his bicep gently. "He was a real good dog."

"Hell of a hound," Daryl agreed, nodding.

"I think I've had enough depressing shit for today. Come on."

"Where we headed to? Eddie's? The Python?" Daryl's voice held a sort of lightness that Sarah didn't think she'd heard for months before all this mess occurred, peculiar for what all they'd been discussing, but present nonetheleses. She smiled and stood.

"To clean whatever animal you hauled out of the woods and then the creek. You know, water, nakedness, cleanliness. . .it'll make me feel better. But I gotta check on Merle on the way."

"No you ain't. I'll do it. You need to lay off it, he's a fuckin' grown man."

"You're just jealous."

"Little bit. C'mon."


	6. Chapter 6

When Daryl and his wife passed his brother's tent, it was open and empty. Sarah turned quickly toward the camp, but Daryl shook his head and pulled her along. "He ain't over there with them, now let it go, woman."

"Ew!" Sarah drew her appendage back to her own body, lip curled. "You're covered in squirrel guts, don't touch me!"

"And you ain't?" Daryl asked, smearing his hands across her breasts. Sarah jumped backward, staring down at her chest with utter shock and disgust. Her arms shook involuntarily as she looked at him, jaw on the ground. Daryl tilted his head back a bit and laughed at the sight, now running his hand across her ass.

"You _disgusting_—"

"Hey there, folks, what's goin' on 'side from wipin' blood all over one another?" Shane asked, trotting up to the pair with his shotgun slung across his back. He glanced at Sarah and raised his eyebrows.

"Fuck does it look like?" Daryl sneered, coming to stand midway between the officer and his old lady. "Just got done cleanin' breakfast, gotta go wash this shit off. She's got towels and clothes in that bag, f' fuck's sake."

Shane cocked a grin and shrugged his shoulders. "Arright man, I was just checkin'. Was gonna make sure ya had somethin' on hand to take care of the little lady, if need be."

"Hell is that s'posed to mean? You think I'm too stupid to know how to take care of my own wife? Can ya not see this big ass fuckin' crossbow I got on my back? Good Lord." Daryl asked.

"C'mon, Daryl, I'm gross. I'll see you tonight, Shane." Sarah called over her shoulder, hand gentle on Daryl's wrist.

The cop nodded, grin spread a little more. "Yeah, that'll be fine, Ms. Sarah. Holler if ya need any help, now. Dale's overheatin' so I'll be takin' over watch until Daryl's turn."

Sarah squinted as she made her way through the brush toward the creek, feeling Daryl's hard eyes on her back the entire way. She sighed and turned back around, feeling sweat drop down her neck. "What is it now, baby?"

"Fuck do you mean, 'see you tonight, Shane'? I told you to stay away from that dickhead!"

"I didn't tell you?" She knew damn well she hadn't and Daryl shook his head, lips a thin line.

"Oh, well we're going frog giggin' in the quarry after dark. He came over while I was doing laundry and talked my ears off about it and I started to get a hankering." Sarah reached for his hand and smiled at him. "For somebody that's about to see his favorite girl naked, you sure look like an unhappy camper."

"And you can't imagine why that might be?" he asked quietly. Sarah squeezed at the unresponsive hand in hers and pulled her bloody, gritty, disgusting man skin-close.

"Have I told you lately that I love you beyond any shadow of a doubt in my mind? That you are the man of my dreams and _literally_ my hero?" she asked, lips a ghostly touch on his scratchy cheek. Sarah hugged him now, filth be damned, tight enough to feel how fast his poor heart was beating. This was hard and she knew it, but she pushed on regardless. "Frog legs are frog legs, but you're the one that makes me weak in the knees. Don't you go forgettin' that. We can't afford to mess up any more, remember? So I'm just askin' you to feel confident in the fact that nothin' Shane can do is gonna change my mind or make me think any different. We're just killin' small animals and eatin' 'em."

Daryl had closed his eyes at the kind words, but he at least had stood still for it all and didn't try to interrupt or walk away. That was one of those things that had taken such a long time and much pleading from this wonderful little woman. He'd had to learn to sit there and take it like a man, just like he had a belt or fists or cigarettes on his skin as a child, and sometimes he wasn't sure which hurt worse, which was harder to take. His arm slowly made its way around the hollow of her back, his chin over the top of her head, and he exhaled slowly. "'M sorry."

Sarah nuzzled against his throat for a moment, basking in just how fucking good it felt to stand close to him and exchange words and touches that actually meant something. No bickering, nothing sexual. Doubt weighed heavily on her chest and she had to remind herself that she'd spent a long time earning the right to do this and becoming comfortable with it herself. He was like her, she reckoned, needing more than he'd ever take and damned if he ever said a word about it. She felt it on her lips when he swallowed hard and let her arms tighten where they were.

"It only bothers me that it bothers you," she whispered. Daryl gave her a brief squeeze and could take no more, so he pulled away and nodded toward the creek. Sarah stared blankly, a vacant feeling now present in her lungs, but she stumbled along beside him until the water came into view.

In the cool embrace of the creek, scrubbing sand against the blood and dirt on her body, Sarah felt the strongest arms she'd ever known fold over her waist from behind.

Daryl left the tent before Sarah that evening, not looking forward to seeing the assholes at camp, but it was just about time for him to mosey on over for food and watch duty. Didn't need some dickhead cop telling him he wasn't pulling his weight again.

Bow across his back, Daryl avoided eye contact with the camp folk and stood awkwardly by the RV, eyes darting to the tent every few seconds. How long did it honestly take her to braid her hair?

"Hey," called Shane, stepping down from the ladder.

Daryl glanced at him and grunted.

"That little lady 'bout ready to have frogs wrapped all around her wrists?" Shane asked, using an oil rag to wipe sweat off the back of his neck. Daryl got the direct impression Shane was trying to lord something over him and he scowled.

"Ain't here to make nice wit' ya. Fuck off."

Shane's lip quirked and he stared holes in the back of Daryl's head a minute, waiting for him to turn, and he laughed softly to himself when the man wouldn't.

"Need you to get up on the RV now," he said, hand on his belt. Daryl simply shook his head.

"Waitin' on the woman. Wanted me to eat with 'er."

"Oh, I'll send her on up, don't worry," Shane insisted.

Daryl turned to him, nonplussed. "Listen, I know ya think yer hot shit, but that whole Andy Griffith act don't work on me. Fuck off and mind yer own while I tend to mine. She had to get herself together. She'll be a minute."

Shane leaned in a bit closer, brows furrowed in condescending concern. "Yeah, about that, you really think you need to be makin' all that noise? Give 'er a break, man, it's cruel to bully ladies into sleepin' with ya."

Daryl wasn't sure whether to laugh in his face over that beautiful bit of irony or punch the man. "We ain't all gotta do like you to get a woman in bed—"

Two gunshots in the distance ripped both men's attention away from one another and toward the vast expanse of trees to the east. Daryl looked toward his tent, squinting and bouncing on his heels to see over the bed of his truck from his vantage point. Open and empty. Son of a bitch. His stomach dropped to his knees.

"Sarah?" he called, walking with his bow in hand toward the blue tapered dome. There was no one inside, but on the ground in front of it was the necklace with her engagement ring, clasp broken, and clear signs of her being dragged up and carried off. Two sets of footprints turned into one.

"All ya had to do was get your ass on top of that fucking RV and you woulda seen it," Shane growled, walking ahead of him. "Get on, I'll find her."

"I don't know who the fuck ya think ya are, but where that'un's concerned, I'm the one goes after her," Daryl growled, blood surging so loudly in his ears it nauseated him.

"Hey, I look after her like I do Lori, Andrea, Carol, all of the women. They need to be protected and if you can't even watch after one—"

More gunshots rang out in late afternoon and Daryl took to running, not able to give a shit about Shane's insults and insinuations for now. The little asswipe jogged off before him, both of them bolting in the direction they could only guess the shots were coming from. Daryl checked the tracks every few feet, just to be sure, but there just wasn't any time to waste.

God, how far was she? They seemed to run for an hour, though he knew it could be no more than a matter of minutes. His lungs burned from overexertion, but he pushed on. Every short while, more shots would echo off the rocky quarry, and he worried more and more about finding her alive. What caliber was that? He could only conclude there was some other target than that brilliant, patient woman that'd said things he'd never imagined another person would say to him earlier that day. He could only _hope_. Why were they taking breaks in fire if it was her?

Shane was greatly delayed by the thick layer of brush, but Daryl traipsed through as gracefully as a dancer on the stage, bound and determined to arrive in time to help her. He was quiet, save for the sound of his own labored panting.

"I-I-I really don't want to. . .please. . ."

"I SAID DO IT."

Daryl jumped at the sound of voices. They were still a ways off, but he knew that had been her. Another five shots in a startling pattern sounded off, but were so loud they hurt his ears. Oh God, someone was firing a gun and trying to make his wife do something she didn't want to do. Someone was hurting her, or they were going to. Fucking figures he'd lose her right after she took him back and said all those things; fucking figures he let her out of his sight for two minutes and she was gone like the last cigarette out of an empty pack.

He was getting warmer. Daryl raised his bow to sight and traveled more carefully, more slowly, but he could hear others shouting and cursing behind him, wondering what was happening, and where had Daryl gone? Fucking morons, he silently cursed. Didn't they know Sarah's life probably depended on her captor not knowing someone was coming after her? What would they do if they heard someone approaching?

The hunter bit down sharply on his lip and set a bolt in place. He could hear someone loading a clip just ahead, although no one was speaking, and he felt a burning in his eyes that he instantly associated with shame. Blinking it back, he silently crept forth until he had two figures in his sight. His wife held a gun between shaking, uncertain hands and the other stood pressed up to her back, arms locked over her precious, pale arms, hands over freckled hands, and he almost shot the motherfucker straight through the brain before he realized it was his own brother.

"Do it, girl," Merle rasped loudly in her ear, shoving his body against hers violently. Daryl saw Sarah grimace, then shoot the tree ahead of them twice. Merle laughed roughly, hoisting the woman into the air by her waist.

"Merle, please—" Sarah frantically exclaimed. "Please, I did it, take me back to the camp now, okay? Please?"

"Atta girl! 'At's my girl, rightcher. C'mon, sugar, I wanna see you do it by yerself!" Merle shouted, dropping her to the ground. Sarah landed on her hip and cried out sharply in pain, the pistol falling beside her. Daryl was shaken out of his shock then and darted in their direction, dropping his bow to whisk Sarah off the ground as soon as he got to her.

"Fuck're ya doin'?" he screamed at his brother's face, clutching Sarah to him. Merle simply stared at him, familiar smirk in place, but a new kind of chill in his eyes. "Ya can't just drop her on the ground! Ya can't just fuckin' take off with her when it's almost dark without tellin' no one and shoot off guns! Who knows how many fuckin' walkers heard that shit?"

"Sarah!" called Shane from a short distance.

"This ain't fuckin' Colliers, Merle! She ain't no goddamn toy, ya can't just pluck her up and take her whenever ya want to anymore!" Daryl yelled, livid beyond any moment in his life. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and Sarah still violently shook in his arms.

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" Shane panted, stopping just before them. Glenn and T-Dog could be spotted from afar. Merle's fist curled and rolled, colliding quickly with his little brother's jaw. He laughed suddenly, filling the crashing dusk with the raucous, boisterous noise.

Daryl stumbled a few steps backward, still holding onto Sarah, who was hysterical now and touching his face to survey the damage. He glared at his brother, who was moving closer again.

"Think ya can tell me what to do with that woman?" Merle asked, reaching out and grabbing Sarah by the hair. He shoved her down to the ground by her braid, causing another pained cry to erupt from her throat. Before Daryl could even process what had just happened to his wife before his very eyes, the butt of Shane's shotgun collided with Merle's head and the man was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Sarah!" Daryl dropped down next to her, pushing stray hair that had fallen from her braid during the struggle out of her face. "Sarah, you okay? Baby, c'mon—"

"Ms. Sarah, what happened?" Shane asked, helping her to stand.

"What'd you do?" she shouted in Shane's face, angrily wiping tears from her face. "What'd you fucking do to him? Why is he on the ground?"

"What did he do to you, Sarah?" Shane asked a little more forcefully, and Daryl could see for the first time the dried blood underneath her nostril and the fresh, discolored cut on her cheekbone.

"Guys, we need to get back to camp before it gets dark," Glenn said from a few feet away, looking nervously from person to person.

"We can't just leave him!" Sarah insisted feverishly, reaching down for Merle's arm. "You don't understand, that wasn't really him—"

"Sarah Claire, what happened?" Daryl asked, pulling her back to him. He didn't like the way Shane was attempting to take over this issue. This was _his _wife, _his_ brother, his own fucking family, and he was more angry than this prick could ever comprehend. He could handle this just fine, and it was _his _place to. Daryl reached into her sleeve and pulled out several leaves from deep within. His face turned and he stared into her eyes. "Fuck did he _do?"_

Sarah shook her head a little too fast, spoke a little too emphatically. "No no no, it's not what you think – this is just a big misunderstanding—"

"No, I don't think I misunderstood the fact that that man just grabbed you by your hair and slammed you into the dirt just now like you were some kind 'a rag doll. I don't think you did all them bruises to yourself, either, did ya? What about that bloody nose and the busted cheek?" Shane asked. He reached for Sarah's shoulder. "Now dollface, I'm just here to help. If he hurt you, if he put his hands on you, he deserves to be punished, not you. You don't deserve what he did."

"Shut the fuck _up!" _Sarah screeched in the man's face, expression pained. "You have to help me get Merle back to camp. We don't have time for all this!"

Daryl couldn't help but smirk, but decided to put an end to the nonsense once and for all. He didn't need this fucking cop or his little buddies fucking this up any further.

"I'm takin' her back to camp, y'all handle Merle. If ya come back without him. . ." Daryl snarled, hauling Sarah up over his shoulder. He stooped down to collect his bow and was off, leaving the others to decide the best way to collect his brother, but truth be told, he almost wished Sarah had been for the idea of leaving him behind. He didn't know what the fuck Merle had put in his system this time, but it had gone too far. Way too far.

Whereas at first he'd been blindly following tracks and gunshots, now Daryl knew exactly how to get back to camp quickest, certain he could make it back in half the time it took to get to the clearing. He dodged branches and briars alike, thanking the powers that be that no walkers were coming out of the woodwork just yet. The crying woman over his shoulder said not a word, gave no protestations, did nothing but seemingly mourn.

Physically exhausted, Daryl sat his wife down on the neatly made air mattress and paced the tent, taking deep swigs of water off the bottle on their makeshift table.

"H-he just came outta nowhere," Sarah's voice was hoarse and broken as she looked up at him. "I was coming to eat and he just tackled me to the ground, gagged me with one of his bandanas, and he fuckin' picked me up and ran me all the way out there saying the _craziest_ shit – oh god, Daryl, I was so fucking scared. I don't know what he took, but it did _not_ go well with all of that smack from earlier—"

Daryl dragged his wife up on her knees on the mattress and mirrored her position, forehead to forehead. "Do ya know? Do ya fuckin' _know_ what went through my head?"

"I didn't mean to, Daryl!" Sarah whispered frenetically, eyes widening. "I didn't want to go, he just took me. He said he wanted to be the one to teach me to use a gun."

"Sssh," Daryl whispered, lips to her scalp. "I ain't blamin' you. I don't think it's yer fault at all, I believe ya. I just. . .God, you won't ever know what I was thinkin' might be happenin' to you. I found yer ring on the ground and it looked like ya just disappeared, and all those gunshots, and I heard ya sayin' you didn't want to and someone was makin' you do shit you didn't want to. . .And I wasn't there to help."

Sarah took a deep breath in order to calm herself. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"What'd he do to you, Sarah? You tell me right this minute. Don't fuckin' lie, stop fuckin' protectin' him. I see what he did, fuckin' _know_, but yer gonna tell me and yer gonna tell me _now._" Daryl said, but his voice didn't hold the usual sort of anger and command. Sarah's lips parted, considering the pure, unadulterated pain and betrayal in his eyes.

She cleared her throat. "He. . .he wasn't himself, Daryl, you have to know that and understand."

Daryl's fist slammed into his own knee. "God_damn_ it, woman!"

"He didn't say anything about the guns at first," Sarah quickly began, holding his hands to keep him from doing himself any further harm. "He just. . .threw me down, like he did earlier, and he walked kinda in circles around me and just talked. And looked at me a weird way. He picked me up a few times and seemed sort of normal, but he was still just off, even then. He kept sayin' he told me not to do 'this'. He talked about you like shit. Talked to me like shit. He kept bringin' up people and things I haven't thought about in years, like he thought it was still 2006 or something.

"When he got out the pistol. . .I tried to run. It all happened so fast, really, but it felt like a long time. He caught me real quick, called me a traitor, and he pushed my head up into a tree. That's why I'm bleedin'. But Daryl, he looked so hurt. Like, I didn't know Merle could hurt like that. I didn't know he could at all. But all that was gone in a split second, buddy, and then he got _real_ mean. And then it was like none of it even happened. He just laughed and smiled and started teaching me about that gun, tellin' me he'd taught you on a rifle, but this would have to do."

Daryl squinted his eyes shut, holding onto her again. "I don't believe yer still makin' excuses for that."

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do about it? Fuckin' kill 'im?" Sarah shrugged emphatically. "There ain't nothin' to do about it."

"You think I'm not gonna do anythin' about it?" Daryl asked, his voice raised noticeably. "Think I won't do that fer ya? Ya never seem to wanna think I'll do _shit_ for ya and I'd do it _all_ for you, Sarah Claire. Only fuckin' person in the world I would do anything for. Anythin' at all, and ya just fuckin' throw it away and ignore it like it's _nothin'_."

"That's not what I meant!" Sarah whispered, her own voice a stark contrast to Daryl's. "Please don't think that, baby, I knew you were comin' for me. I knew you were comin' for me at the hospital before you even called or Merle even got there. I knew you were comin' for me. I know I'm okay 'cause of you. Please don't think that. You're all I have."

"I fuckin' love you, Sarah Claire. Listen good, 'cause you know I can't say much on it and it don't come often enough and I'm sorry. Fuckin' love you like I didn't think was even real or possible."

Sarah nodded against him, summoning up a smile for him. "Love you, too."

Daryl relaxed his entire body, slouching against Sarah and not taking his hands off her. He sighed heavily.

"I'm gonna ask if you can stay home tonight," Sarah whispered, patting his back. "He's gotta understand what we've been through. Don't argue, 'kay? I need you with me tonight."

Daryl inhaled deeply and finally nodded. He didn't think he could physically manage to stay awake another hour, let alone another six in the dead of night tasked with keeping the entire camp safe. The crash after all that adrenaline bottoming out in his system was just too much. "Arright. Go talk to your little boyfriend and I'll see 'bout Merle. I can hear 'em out there."

Sarah walked over to her little compact on the makeshift table and tried her best to right her appearance. She blinked when Daryl gave her a funny look. "What? I thought I was going to see my boyfriend."

A pillow sailed at her head.

When Sarah stood, face looking a little fresher, Daryl walked over and put his arm around her shoulder.

"You gonna be all right?" he asked, squeezing gently. This woman seemed like glass to him, but she'd survived what was probably a meth psychosis episode with possibly the most dangerous living person Daryl had ever met. He had to feel a little pride in that. He'd barely come out of one of those alive, himself, once upon a time.

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm just gonna use my feminine wiles to twist his arm into lettin' me have my husband after. . .that. Don't get me wrong, I do need it, but I'm a little tired and a little shell-shocked to use logic and reason." Sarah kissed him quickly.

"May as well go on," Daryl said, hearing the angry voices outside. Sarah nodded and went ahead, figuring it'd be better if she came out first.

"What is going on here? Shane, you cannot seriously consider letting him stay here any more," Lori's voice drifted from a short distance. Sarah furrowed her brow and followed the sound, Daryl shortly after.

"Lori, there's only so much I can do if there ain't nothin' she wants me to do about it, you know that," Shane said, arms crossed. He shrugged. "I haven't even got the story outta her yet."

"Well, what if he comes after one of the rest of us?" Lori asked.

"Why would he do a thing like that? What would he want with you?" Sarah asked, scowling at the dark-haired woman. Lori's sharp black eyes fell on her now.

"Have you seen yourself? Sarah, I'm just speaking out of concern for the group, here. He assaulted you, clearly, and you won't speak up about what happened, so who knows how awful it was?"

"My medical opinion is this," Sarah began, speaking over several mutters of conversation. "Merle was probably experiencing a rare episode of something called meth psychosis. He was experiencing delusions, paranoia, and a list of other symptoms that caused him to act out the way that he did. What he did scared a lot of us, especially me, but it is a _medical _problem that should be addressed _medically_, not by shunning him or just plain killing him."

"You mean to tell me this man has been using those kinds of drugs? What about our kids?" Carol asked, holding Sophia close to her. A lot of voices chimed in, raising concern over the safety of the group again.

"Merle doesn't use them because he wants to, he uses them because he has to. This is a medical disease accepted by virtually every reputable physician and medical institution in the first world. And besides, I'd like to ask you this: If he had a severe mental problem, maybe schizophrenia, and acted out in a similar way, then would it be right to abandon him? Of course not. So what makes it any different in the case of addiction?" Sarah posed. She looked into the faces of several camp people, looked for which way they seemed to swing on the issue. Behind her, Daryl grew increasingly uncomfortable with the attention he seemed to get just for being Merle's brother.

"She's right," Dale softly agreed with a nod. "It's wrong to turn our backs on a man solely because he has a drug problem, whether it be Merle or Shane."

"Do you think you can give him the help he needs to manage the problem?" Shane asked, head tilted as he sized up her big claims.

"Well, I don't think I can do it alone, but yes. It's definitely manageable until we find a better solution," Sarah nodded. Dissention could be read on most of the campers' faces, but no one spoke.

"As long as you and your man can handle it and eventually get him clean, I can't say nothin' right now. If you choose not to press any charges, so to speak, I don't feel right layin' a hand on him. I don't wanna see him gettin' violent again, Sarah Claire, not with you or anybody else."

Daryl could've choked on that load of bullshit and he and Lori both narrowed their eyes. The law didn't exist any longer, and it wasn't like Shane had ever seemed desperate to cling to it before.

"Arright everybody, return to your posts and keep alert," Shane called, his hand planted in the middle of Sarah's back. "Nurse Ratched and I are gonna find a way to keep this situation under control, and that is a promise."

"Shane," Sarah began as everyone began to fritter away, reaching for his arm. He turned back to her, finding that Daryl had already slipped off himself. "Shane, I need to talk to you in private a second. Daryl went to look after his brother."

"You gonna tell me what happened out there?" Shane asked, stepping close again. Sarah closed her eyes and sighed softly.

"If I do, will you let me have my husband home tonight?" she asked. Shane tilted his head to the side, hand on his belt.

"You know the rules, Miss Sarah Claire, not s'posed t' mess up the watch order."

"Shane, look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, okay? And I'm a missus now, remember?" Sarah touched his upper arm lightly. It was harder to do things like this with a banged up face, but maybe it would work. "I know you were just doing your job. I was just scared and upset. I'm calmer now. If I tell you what happened, will you please let me have Daryl tonight? I feel better now, but I know it won't if it's dark and I'm all alone."

Shane breathed in deeply and exhaled, scratching the back of his head. "I'll ask Jim if he'll keep on for the rest of this shift. Butcha better cooperate, hear? I need to know what happened out there, Sarah, it's for your own good."

Sarah willed herself to ignore that pointed chauvinism and nodded before heading straight into the exact tale she'd told Daryl in their tent.

"I told you before, Merle's used to being able to drop by and whisk me off on adventures. Or, at least, that's how it used to happen. It hasn't so much these past two years or so, but when he gets really fucked up, he seems to think it's back when. . ." Sarah stopped herself, staring at the ground beside them.

"When what?" Shane pried, leaning just a touch closer.

Sarah shook her head quickly. "We used to work together, in a way. We spent a lot of time together, but shit's changed now. Well obviously, but even before it was next to impossible. So I guess when he's in a daze, he reaches into the part of his mind when his faaaavorite person in the world was always ready to raise go off into uncharted territory."

"You ain't scared?" Shane asked, carefully filing away that information and noting the gaps and blanks.

"Yeah, a bit, to be honest, but I know _Merle_ wouldn't have done things that way. See what I mean? I can only imagine what someone like you'd be like in such a state," Sarah teased, punching his bicep. "_You_ wouldn't do that, but you still probably would if you had the same chemicals in your system. Not that you ever would have them in your system, of course. . .just a what-if type situation."

"What about Daryl?" Shane asked, indicating toward the lighted tent down the path of trodden grass. "We in any danger of this happening with him? Don't go all Amazonian on me, Miss Sarah, I just gotta be sure, all joking aside."

Sarah placed a hand on her hip. "I'm gonna be blunt with you, Shane. If you grew up watching Merle Dixon do the things he does, would you ever want to do the same?

"I won't even bullshit you and say he's never done anything illegal, because he has, and he did a lot of it with _me_. Before I started gettin' drug tested all the time because of my job, it wasn't nothin' for us to hole up in the house on the weekend with a couple bowls and a box of condoms. So judge my husband all you want, but he ain't ever done anything harder than what I've done. And you don't _ever_ tell him I said any of that."

Shane shrugged, eyebrows high. "I guess I appreciate yer honesty?"

Sarah laughed suddenly, hand clapping the man on the shoulder now. "Like you never smoked weed in high school. I know your type. Probably went out drinkin' every weekend after the game."

"And you didn't, Miss Varsity Cheerleader?" Shane teased.

"What the fuck ever! Listen, I gotta go take care of the world's worst patient. Truth be told, I miss my ornery husband. I'll see you around tomorrow," Sarah said, already headed in the direction of Merle's tent.

"Can't let those frogs get off scot-free, now," Shane called after her. He turned around quickly when he felt another set of eyes on his back. "'Sup, Lori?"

Sarah saw Daryl emerge from his brother's tent and zip it closed quick.

"Everything okay?" she asked. "He all right?"

"I took care of it," Daryl shrugged, reaching his hand out as she drew closer. "C'mon."

"You sure he'll be all right in there tonight?"

"I told ya I took care of it, woman, ya gonna take my word on it?" Daryl asked, lips against her uninjured cheekbone. "S'at about up there?"

Sarah followed his line of sight to see Shane still standing in the same spot with an angry-looking Lori, who waved and gestured emphatically as she spoke. Sarah could only shrug. "I don't even care, she's always got a bug up her cunt about something. I just want to eat some jerky and go to sleep. Ready to go to bed?"

Daryl shook his head, leading her for the tent. "Not at all, no ma'am."


	7. Chapter 7

"_So, whatcha thinkin'?" _

_Sarah raised her eyes to meet his, but quickly lowered them again. It was close to impossible to even look him in the face. _

"_You brought it up, girl, not me." She heard his boots clicking on the slick, wet asphalt, getting closer and closer. He lowered his himself to her eye level. "Oughtta know ya can't come to this side of town and talk a big game with nothin' to back it up."_

"_I know just as much about it as you do," Sarah muttered defensively. Two calloused fingers forced her chin up so she'd look him in the eye. He was smirking._

"_There's that big talk again," he rasped._

"_My brother—"_

"_I heard all about him, too. Ya spent half the night yappin' away, but ain't seen ya do anythin' yet."_

"_Well then, let's go," Sarah said, eyes fina__lly locked with his. Merle's lips curled back into a smirk, lines around his eyes a little more pronounced._

"_Arright, c'mon then."_

Sarah blinked herself awake, noticing for the first time that someone had entered her tent and was speaking to her. "Hm?"

"I said yer gonna hafta be a little more careful 'bout leavin' yer tent unzipped. Them geeks don't know how to work a zipper, unlike you," Merle said, crouching down beside her.

"Christ Almighty, Merle, I coulda been naked," Sarah protested through a yawn. "Fuck do you want?"

Without a word, Merle pushed the sheet down off of her body and looked over the skint knees, bruised arms, cut up ankle, and busted cheek. He sighed and stood, pulling her with him.

"C'mon, girl," he said, holding his arms out. Sarah scratched her head, looking at her warily.

"Who let you outta their sights? You're not supposed to be around me."

Merle scowled. "You cut 'at shit out. Here, take a shot. Take two if ya want. Know what? Ya got a whole thirty seconds. Beat the shit outta me. Go on, now."

"Merle, go away." Sarah said, pushing past him. He had a firm grip on her shoulder before she knew it, but it was notably reserved.

"Don'tcha walk away from me, girl. I didn' know at the time I was hurtin' ya. I wisht it hadn'a happened. N'get over here and beat on me until ya feel better. Here," he took her hand and wrapped the very same bandana he'd gagged her with around her knuckles. "Won't hurtcha none. I taughtcha how to throw a punch, now do it."

"Can't Daryl do it? I'm sure he wants to," Sarah said bitterly.

"You can hit harder 'an Darylina. Now do it, I'mma start countin'. One Missi—" Merle's head snapped backward a bit. "Goddamn girl! I didn' say break m' fuckin' nose!"

"Do you know how they looked at me?" Sarah shouted, slugging him in the chest. "Do you know how Daryl looks at me every time I fucking stick up for you? When _he_ is sick of your shit, I know I shouldn't even fucking care anymore what happens to you. You're a bully, you know that? You're just a big fucking bully. You may be sick and you may be my brother, but I'm tired of loving you and giving a shit and not _getting_ shit in return."

Merle stood still and took the blows to his chest like a solid wall, holding her arm when he counted thirty Mississippis. "Calm down, girl. I done worse to ya before."

"And you're just gonna keep on doing it!" Sarah cried, pulling her arm away from his grip. "Enough! I'm through!"

"I don't think you know what yer sayin', girl," Merle warned, staring her down now.

"No, I do! I don't have to be three feet tall in your presence any more. I won't ever let any single one of them talk bad about you, I'll take care of things when you get sick, but other than that, I'm done." Sarah stepped through the tent opening and walked toward her own vehicle. She heard Merle's footsteps clopping through the grass.

"Whatcha think is really gonna happen when you tell Daryl yer turnin' yer back on his brother?" Merle asked, towering over her with his full height drawn. Sarah ignored him and popped her trunk, digging through the various items they'd absconded from the hospital. "That little shit may talk a big game about bein' pissed at me, but he won't ever turn away. Where'd ya be if I never came after you, girl? Ever think about that? Where'd ya be if I never made ya show _Daryl _yer titties? Where'd ya be if I never gave ya the time of day the night we met?"

"Here," Sarah said, producing large white bottles from underneath a backpack and shoving them in his hands. "Cyclobenzaprine, methadone, tramadol, hydrocodone – knock yourself out! Go have a big fuckin' party!"

Merle threw the bottles to the ground and pushed her against the open trunk of her Focus. "Stop actin' like I'm the only one with a problem here."

"Oh please—"

"I ain't talkin' about the pill kind or the needle kind or the liquid kind, either."

"Don't act like you have _any _idea what you're talking about," Sarah seethed, shoving up against immovable shoulders. "I never hurt anyone with it. All that comes outta what I do is I have a man who's well taken care of."

"Girl, you ever get tired of playin' the same game over and over again?" Merle asked, hint of a laugh behind his voice. He shook his head as if in amusement. "'At's what's gonna happen to you, 'ventually."

"Stop it," Sarah whispered sharply. "Stop trying to scare me into sticking around. See what I mean? You're just a fuckin' bully, _just like Marcus_—"

Merle raised his fist, but forced himself away from the woman, releasing a loud rumble from deep in his chest. He turned back on her quicker than she could blink, finger in her face.

"Don't ya ever fuckin' say that shit again!" he shouted, so close their bodies were touching now. "I may be alotta thangs, but a woman beater ain't one of 'em!"

"_Look _at me, Merle!" Sarah said, holding out her arms and lifting her chin higher so he could see the after effects of the previous evening. "Look what that shit does to you! Look what you do to _me_ when you're on that shit! What makes you any better than him?"

"I put that fucker in the _ground_ fer ya, woman, and now yer talkin' about turnin' yer fuckin' back on me?" Merle asked dangerously low, head shaking. Sarah blinked quickly, tilting her head backward. "Look at ya. Ya ain't really gonna do it. Yer conscience won't let ya. Where'd ya be if I never found ya, pulled him offa ya, and taught him a lesson he couldn' even live through?"

Sarah reached out and gripped Merle's shoulder as hard as she could. "I never said I didn't appreciate what you did."

"Good."

"But I can't do this any more," Sarah shook her head.

"Ya think I don't know all this shit is gonna run out, 'ventually?" Merle asked, narrowing his eyes a touch. "I ain't fool enough not to know yer the only idiot left in my corner, 'side from my piss ant little bro. Here I came to reconcile and whatnot and ya fuckin' tell me ya don't ever wanna talk to me again. Only lady friendship I ever kept. Pretty shitty, little sis."

"What _you _did was shitty."

"I know."

Sarah bent down to pick up the pharmacy bottles and locked them back inside her trunk.

"I need to get something to eat," she said weakly, not looking at him.

"I got one thing I need to know, baby sister." Merle reached behind himself and pulled the pistol from the day before from his waistband, presenting it to her.

"Show me how you take the safety off. Now show me how to check yer clip. Show me how ya hold it. No, no—there ya go. Now," Merle stood only inches away again, looking her dead in the eye. "I didn't force ya, did I?"

Sarah swallowed and breathed out shakily. "N-no. But you seemed like you might."

Merle closed his eyes, bringing her pistol-yielding hand to his temple. "It's yers now. Don't lemme catch ya without it. I ever seem like 'at again, blow my fuckin' brains out."

"Merle!" Sarah cried, her face and hand falling. The aging addict simply leaned over, kissed her injured cheek, and walked away.

"Sure has a dramatic way of sayin' sorry."

Sarah's hair whipped around her face and she spun, looking around. Shane stepped out from behind a tree, rubbing his neck and looking up at her from his lowered eyebrows.

"You had no right to listen to our conversation," Sarah said impotently, setting the safety into place on her new weapon. She attempted to tuck it into her waistband, only to have it fall to the dust beneath her feet. Shit. Still in pajama shorts. Blushing furiously, Sarah bent down to pick up the gun and stalked over to her tent to quickly change.

"I came around when I heard all 'a that hollerin'. You ain't been all that truthful with me," Shane said outside the flap, making it clear there was no avoiding this discussion. "My feelings are real hurt."

"I've been honest about what's your business to know."

"You don't think it's my business that the man what assaulted ya last night is a murderer?" Shane asked, leaning against Daryl's truck.

"You heard what we were saying," Sarah unzipped the tent quickly and stumbled out dressed for the hot as hell morning. Not taking her eyes away from the man, she used bobby pins and a hair tie to get the messy shit away from her face. "He was defending me against a very, very bad man. The kind of evil Merle Dixon can't never compare to, I don't care _what_ you think about 'im. Marcus had a heart attack in the middle of it and died, that is the _official_ coroner's report after the autopsy and Merle was never charged with murder nor manslaughter. When the judge saw the pictures of what Marcus done to _me_, he shook Merle's hand, and that's the gospel truth."

"Gonna tell me what happened?" Shane asked, feeling a faint glimmer of new respect for Dixon.

"You wanna know why it annoys me so much that you keep insisting that Daryl's a bad, violent man, that Merle is just plain trash that wouldn't hesitate to hurt me or anyone else?" Sarah asked, stepping up to where the cop stood. "I know what a bad man really is. I know. See, I ain't from Georgia, and this ain't my first marriage. I graduated high school in '97 and my ex-husband and me got married three months after we walked. We dated since sophomore year. He was junior ROTC, star running back, I was on the dance team. . .Perfect, average American couple. We were gonna live out the American dream. He enlisted in the Corps right after he turned eighteen. Things were great at first, as they say, and then it all just went to shit. I lost a baby, see. It got even worse after 9/11 and he got shipped off to Afghanistan. I went through five years of bein' scared out of my mind all the time 'fore I left. But Marcus couldn't leave well enough alone, so I filed a protection order, filled out paperwork for a proper restraining order, ignored the thirty threatening voice mails every day, and patiently waited for him to get deployed again so I could move on with my life. Suddenly, I could do all the things I wanted to. I _ran far the fuck away. _I packed up, moved to Colliers, close to the city but not _in _the city, just like Jerome – where I grew up, right outside of New Orleans – I got accepted into Emory, I had _friends_, it was great. I loved working and going to school in Atlanta, loved my quiet apartment, loved my roommate, loved it all.

"Now listen, Merle knows this, but Daryl don't, and you don't ever tell him about it. I'll gut you. Colliers has this place called Eddie's where respectable, upstanding citizens don't ever tread, if ya know what I mean. My roommate and I and a bunch of our friends had been up drinking a little and we decided it'd be fun to dress up like rednecks and crash the bar. I know, I know, it was stupid and cruel, but we did it. I cut off some jeans, threw on a pair of boots, cropped an old Jack Daniel's tank top I owned, stole my friend Allen's Stetson, and we were gone.

"Now, don't think for a second us drunk jackasses had anybody in that bar fooled. Lady actually chickened out and made one of the guys take her home before we even went inside. But Merle. . .I mean, my eyes just went straight to him as soon as I walked in, and he gave me that big shit-eatin' grin and walked right on over."

Sarah caught herself smiling and aching deliciously on the inside, wishing so badly that she could go back to a time before all of these awful things to relish the wonder of life that moment all those years ago. It all seemed to happen around her as she stared past Shane. She could smell the stale smoke in the air that night, the sounds of clinking glasses like a melody in her ears, and Merle. . .the feeling in her chest when she saw that bold and broad figure strut across the bar toward her, that exquisite feeling of fear and anticipation that she hadn't understood at the time. Snapping herself from the reverie, she could only shrug.

"And that was it, I guess. Inseparable since. Merle's my best friend. He may be mean as an Avoyelles parish gator, but when push came to shove, Merle was there.

"About three years ago. . .actually, this happened when me and Daryl had been together almost a year. . .Marcus just. . .showed up. My roommate Olivia was gone to spend the weekend in Atlanta and he'd flown in to Fort Benning and drove all the way to Colliers." Sarah pursed her lips and breathed out slowly through her nose. "I don't think there's much a point going into details, and you know the rest of the story, anyway. Merle came over, only a little drunk, on his way to Eddie's. . .his place was way out in the boonies, see, and he had to pass me on the way to town. . ."

Shane reached over and squeezed her shoulder gently. "It's okay, Miss Sarah."

The auburn-haired lady stood still there in the little clearing, staring ahead at Shane with an almost perplexed expression.

"I said something horrible and cruel to that man," she finally spoke. "I ignored it when he tried to make things right the only way he really knows how and compared him to someone he protected me from, and I am a worse person than he could ever be. At least when Merle Dixon is truly harmful, he's fucked out of his mind."

"Sarah—"

"I don't know why I went on the way I have about all this, because it really ain't any of your business. I guess it's just the dreams I've been havin' and all this stuff that's going on. . .He never did any of that to impress anybody. That's the point, I guess. My husband used to beat the shit outta me and call me names and make me feel lower than dirt every day of my life, and when I finally got the guts to leave him, he haunted me. He haunted me until he was able to come after me with his fists and his anger and all the brutality he learned after four tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Marcus Jasper was a jarhead through and through. Hard on the outside, empty on the inside. I know what a bad man is, Shane, and it don't necessarily come wrapped in a downhome, poorly educated package. Marcus was a decorated soldier, a bright man, a God-fearing man. He bought flowers and candy and won stuffed bears at the fair and his daddy loaned him an unholy sum of money just so he could buy me the shiniest engagement ring that no eighteen year-old girl should ever own. By society's standards, he did everything _right_, but underneath, he was a monster. He was dark and cold on the inside.

"My boys might seem rough around the edges, and Merle is definitely a bad person. Merle is quite possibly one of the shittiest people I know when it comes to some things, with the way he treats certain people. Don't think I don't know. But he's not a bad _man_. And Daryl most certainly is _not_ a bad man. Daryl is possibly the best man I've ever known. A lot of people questioned me – I know you folks still do - but the thought that he chose _me_, little Sarah Claire Moultrie, is more than I can even stand to wonder about most days. Like, wow, Daryl Dixon chose _me_. I am a complete shit of a person and I was a bad girlfriend. I know I was. I would run off with his brother doing the stupidest shit imaginable at the drop of a hat, usually without even leaving a note, I worked too hard, I usually spent at least thirty hours a week at the school, I took it all out on him, and, if we're being frank here, I have a _huge_ problem and it's made me put unreasonable demands on that man for years. All he ever did was take it all in stride and treat me like a proper lady."

Shane felt uncomfortable suddenly, remembering the things Lori had said to him the night before. He sighed, looking back toward the main camp. "Miss Sarah, I ain't exactly sure what to say."

"Say you're sorry for treatin' me like some helpless idiot that don't even know the men she's been living with for years."

Shane only smiled and stepped forward for a one-armed hug.

"Take care of yourself, now. Make sure Daryl shows you more about that gun before you go shootin'. I'll have Carol bring over y'all's breakfast. He's been over there guttin' what looks to me like another rabbit for a couple minutes now, by the way." Shane threw his head in Daryl's direction, thirty yards away. Sarah let the officer walk off, taking her knife out of her pocket and walking purposefully toward the lone squirrel soaking in a bucket of water.

"How long you been listenin'?" she asked, raising the dead animal by the tail and holding it out and away from her.

Daryl didn't look at her. "'Bout when you started talkin' about that sick fuck beatin' on ya."

"Weren't gonna say anything?"

"Nah. That was an interesting one-sided conversation."

Sarah stomped down on the tail and reached down to pull up on the back legs, peeling the skin. "Oh really?"

Daryl only grunted.

"Care to share what you found so interesting?"

It took a while for Daryl to say anything else. He dropped the rabbit's hide in a clean tray of water and shoved it aside with his shoe.

"Way you talk about Merle like he was the one you really wanted in the first place. And I don't mean just then. I think about the way you talk about meetin' him and the way I've heard ya talk about meetin' me. . .it just ain't the same. You ain't ever happy when ya talk about meetin' me."

Sarah's heart nearly broke at the sincerity in Daryl's voice, though he was careful to hide any real hint of emotion. "Daryl, when I met you the _first_ time you were shitfaced drunk and you told me my ass was like a Mack truck. What, you want me to tell you the truth about how I feel about you like I did yesterday? Did you not hear all that stuff I said about you when I thought you weren't listening? Daryl, if I said what was really on my mind all the time, you'd run away. It makes you uncomfortable. You notice I don't say how I feel about Merle when he's around."

"Shouldn't be like that. Girl, _twist_ that bone. It's already dead." Daryl wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. "Man should be able to listen to his woman speak about such things."

Sarah smiled at him. "You know I love it when you talk like that."

"Rilly?" Daryl asked. He couldn't imagine what was so entrancing about his unrefined speech and blood-coated fingers.

She nodded. "I always liked it best when you called me your woman and not your fiancée or girlfriend because it was more natural."

Daryl shrugged. "What about wife?"

"Equally possessive, equally natural coming from you."

"You got the smartest fuckin' mouth."

Sarah leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "You've got a really nice ass."

He scoffed.

"What? I thought we were swappin' compliments again," Sarah laughed, nudging him with her knee.

"I ain't goin' out today. I took Jimbo's noon since he took my six last night. Even things out."

Daryl stopped speaking and looked up when he saw the grey-haired lady approaching with a few plastic plates in her hands. He couldn't recall her name to save his own life. Didn't really know any of their names, and he was growing more and more antsy about staying with these people.

"Morning, Carol!" Sarah greeted brightly, half-skint squirrel in her hands.

"Ah. . .good morning, Sarah." Carol couldn't help but notice the nurse's husband was ignoring her presence.

"What all needs done today?" Sarah asked.

"Nothin' yer doin'," Daryl snapped all of a sudden, causing Carol to jump.

"Um. . .well actually, I think Sophia may have a spider bite. . ." the housewife said meekly. "If you think you could take a look at some point, Ed and I would be greatly appreciative."

"Hey, I've been thinking actually, who's been teaching the kids during the day?" Sarah asked, dropping her work into fresh water. She wiped her hands on the wet towel Daryl had brought from the creek. "I think that I could probably chip in with that every day, if no one objects to me teaching their kids. I'm no good at math really, but I was always real good at history and science. I can teach 'em first aid, too. Seems like a pretty good compromise, don't it Daryl? Can't deprive the children of a good education."

"Fuck do they need to know all that shit for? 'Sides first aid," Daryl asked defensively. The only reason he even almost made it through high school was because he kept going for the auto shop and electrical classes.

"Just preserving what knowledge there is left! Jeez!" Sarah cried, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Don't you think it would be a good idea? It'll give them something to do during the day and I get to use the big, fancy brain you're always braggin' on me about and sayin' I shouldn't have to do grunt work for."

"Girl, only thing big on you is yer mouth and that Mack truck ass."

Sarah reached out and smacked Daryl's arm, causing Carol's eyes to widen. She braced herself to witness some form of retaliation, but Daryl only scoffed and went back to slicing the carcass in his hands.

"Don't act like you don't like it!" Sarah giggled, pushing and shoving at her husband still. "Carol, if you could just explain to the other ladies that I'm not worthless, it's just my husband's stubborn as hell? I'm sure he'll be fine with me helping out with the kids' educations before too long, so please bring it up to someone, would ya?" Sarah asked, her hand falling on Daryl's knee now. "Ooh, I also know how to cut hair really well. My roommate when I first moved to Georgia was a hair stylist."

"That's really nice of you," Carol managed a smile. She really _wanted_ to like Sarah. Sarah was a little loud and daring, but Carol recognized the lovingness behind most of the things she did. She always wished she could be so brave with men. Sarah stood up to Shane and Merle and Daryl like it was nothing at all. "A lot of the men are complaining about the heat and their hair, especially Officer Walsh, with all that thick mess on his head."

"It's no problem, really. I'm desperate to come up with ways to help out without getting a rise out of Daryl. If anyone complains again, tell them to come my way. I have my shears and raw will power. Just have them scrub their scalp first."

"Don't talk about me like I ain't right next to ya," Daryl scowled, tossing a piece of raw flesh on her lap.

"Daryl!"

"I'll have a talk with Lori," Carol said abruptly, collecting the empty water jugs by their fire. "She and I usually do our best with school, but I think you and Dale and Andrea may well be the only people here in camp that graduated college. Thank you so much for offering to help."

"Really, it's no problem. Thanks for bringing this food out," Sarah nodded. Daryl was already eating, dried blood on his hands and all. She rolled her eyes. "See ya later, Carol."

"Cut my hair," Daryl demanded through a mouthful of Spam.

"Goddamn, you are just precious today with this jealousy thing. And also, fucking ew, Daryl. At least wash your fucking hands off. This is why people think you're crazy. This is why I always thought you were crazy and creepy as shit."

"Ya liked it!" Daryl harkened her earlier defenses.

"I didn't like you at all, and you hated my very soul."

"Still fucked."

"Well, yeah."

"I remember the first time," Daryl smirked down at his plate, pushing the food around with his fork.

"In my own defense, you look really good with rolled up sleeves."

"Yeah, and I like yer big ass. I won't ever forget 'at night, actually. Never heard a woman say such things."

Sarah laughed, nearly choking on her own breakfast.

"What was it ya said t' me, now?" Daryl looked up at the sky, pretending to try and recollect the words. "'I hate yer fuckin' guts, ya little asswipe, but right about now I'd climb ya like a tree?'"

"I did. I hated you. I hate you a little right now, too."

"Girl, I don't know who taught ya that shit, but I always felt like I oughtta find out and send 'em flowers and a thank you note. I still do, actually."

"Yeah, well send yourself some flowers, 'cause a lot of what I do now I developed with you. You want my beets?"

Daryl shook his head, standing and reaching for her. "'Bout we mosey on down to the crick and don't come back a while?"

"Ohh!" Sarah hopped up, arms around his waist. "Does he mean it or is he fucking with her?"

Daryl smirked, reaching down to grab a handful of that famed Mack truck ass. "Get walkin', now."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Just so there's no confusion, this chapter IS set weeks after the last. Carry on!

"I think she's finally comin' around," Daryl said over his shoulder, peering past his crossbow at his big brother. Merle shrugged at him and narrowed his eyes inquisitively. Daryl had to turn away to hide the grin forming on his face. He cleared his throat. "She told me not to worry about rubbers."

Merle laughed softly, masking the immense feeling of pride and relief he felt for his brother. "Whatcha been doin' this whole time? Been quite a while since we set up camp."

"I 'unno, really. See, I figured she still had a lot 'a pills left, y'know she never really let me see 'em anyway, so I never fuckin' even thought about it, and couple weeks ago I'm thinkin' 'Holy shit, I'm glad I cleaned out that drug store 'cause this woman don't want any kiddos and she ain't gonna go without', so when the time arrived that night I went lookin' after some in the bags and she says not to worry about it. I asked her was she sure and she said yeah." Daryl gave a soft little laugh at the end of his story. Merle grinned and shook his head.

"'Bout time. Guess she finally went crazy, wantin' any babies of yers."

"Cock crazy." Daryl put a bolt through the head of a rabbit caught in one of their snares as Merle chuckled. "Y'know what I mean. That's my _woman_, but damn. Can't imagine what it'll be like when she's pregnant."

"You'll make it all right. Either that or she'll start fuckin' the cop. Maybe even that Asian kid she likes so much. Don't think she'd go after the nigger, though," Merle mused, looking up at the treetops with his rifle thrown across his shoulder. Daryl let the fear sink into his gut again and he turned quiet. He didn't understand why Merle had to bring up shit like that, knowing he was already scared it would happen.

But no. . .it wouldn't happen now. So far as he knew, and he had faith, his wife had never actually cheated on him. No reason for her to start now, not when she was finally ready to have a kid after he'd been barking up that tree for years. He wasn't clear on why it had to be the apocalypse that brought this about, and in his gut he knew they were facing awful danger and only adding to it, but he conveniently ignored that for the sake of family. It was finally going to happen, and he would do whatever impossible thing or things he had to if it meant he got that little family he'd been chasing most of his life.

"She'll make a good mama," Merle spoke hoarsely as they ventured further out. It was kept a strict secret from most of the other camp members, but certain men traveled past the normal hunting grounds daily to check for walkers ever since Merle had killed one two weeks prior. Daryl nodded.

"Hell, I think so. I always did. She mighta had her wild days all the way up to the end, but lookit how good she is with those young'uns at camp when she's teachin'. That woman _loves_ them babies. Sometimes before she even talked about what she wanted t' name ours, y'know, 'on down the line' or however the fuck she put it."

Merle turned to his little brother quickly. "Mason. Tell me she mentioned namin' a son Mason."

Daryl snickered. "Mason Dixon? Really bro?"

Merle winked. "Took 'er forever to get that. One night I got all serious on 'er and told her to promise me she'd name a son Mason fer me, once I was sure about y'all. Then one day about a month later we was fishin' and she all a sudden turned 'round and whomped me on the jaw, bitchin' about how I had her goin'. Told her Mason was the name of a fella I went to Parris Island with that died in the Gulf."

"Sounds like somethin' you'd do to that poor kid," Daryl grunted, squinting at the horizon. The brothers surveyed the valley bellow, finding no limping figures. Daryl nearly jumped when his brother's hand thumped twice on his shoulder.

"Happy fer ya, little bro. Even if yer shit for controllin' that smart ass mouth 'a hers. 'Bout time I got me a nephew."

The younger Dixon kept his face blank, well aware he'd receive no less than disgust if he reacted any differently, but relished the words in his mind. Such things didn't come easily from Merle, even if your name was Sarah Claire Dixon.

"Don't say anythin' to 'er about it, now, not 'til she says she's pregnant fer sure. I don't want anythin' fuckin' this up." Daryl said, setting out on an immediate mission to find that exact person upon returning to the campsite and found her right where he'd left her, scrubbing their clothes alongside some of the other ladies. Sarah was particularly engaged in apparently light-hearted conversation with the grey-haired lady she was so fond of. Daryl wasn't sure why her name never really stuck with him.

"Oh hi, Dar—ooph!" Sarah gripped the shoulder she was thrown over.

"Sorry ladies," he apologized tersely, briskly walking them back to their tent. He smiled at her when he sat her down on her own two feet once they were safe and sound inside. "Ain't too gross, am I?"

Sarah shook her head, grinning from ear to ear and closing in to kiss a few choice locations on his face. "No! I'm so impressed. Every time you go out with Merle, you stay clean somehow. Not that you're not filthy when you come home from bein' out there alone. . ."

Daryl swatted at her ass playfully and pulled her flush against him. "Been a good girl while I was gone?"

"Of fuckin' course I was!" Sarah whispered, lips at his collarbone. "Just a little gossipin'."

"Oh, you oughtta know better 'an that. About what?"

"You."

Daryl grabbed her up roughly now and deposited her on the mattress, freshly pumped that morning and springy.

"What'd ya say?" he breathed in her ear, pinning her underneath him. It'd admittedly taken him a while to get used to treating a woman like this in bed when they initially got together, and they certainly had other ways of doing it, but this was what really made Sarah craziest, what really got her trembling and trying so hard to keep her voice down was when he took away all control of the situation. Her trust in him was seemingly limitless, and he never once betrayed it in four – wasn't it closer to five now? – years.

"We _always _talk about our men when we do laundry," Sarah giggled softly, the tips of her toes just barely reaching his ankles. "Today we talked about home life and what we missed about it and I talked about how much I miss your books all over the place and our big ol' tower of movies and tripping over your boots and also your _body_. . ."

"Woman, I still got my body."

"Yeah, but I missed it."

Daryl fought the laugh that almost burst forth and pressed more of himself against her. "I told you not to say too much about me."

"But Daryl. . ."

He shook his head. "Don't 'but Daryl' me. You bes' listen to me, now."

"Why do you talk like that?" Sarah asked, her fingers lightly running through his hair. He'd need another trim soon, and Merle needed his curly head shaved again. What was it about Dixon genes that made their hair grow so damn fast?

"It's what you want, Sarah Claire."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Ya wouldn't know what to do with yerself if ya didn't get it like this," Daryl breathed in her ear, his hands set loose on her prone form. Sarah groaned as quietly as she could manage when she felt his teeth near her earring. "I think ya want it all the time. Ya just won't admit it."

"What's that now?" Sarah asked, and Daryl tightened his grip on her.

"Woman, don't you play no games with me," he warned with a low voice.

"No games," Sarah shook her head as much as she could manage. Daryl pulled the daisy clip out of her hair and tossed it aside. "What'd ya do that for?"

"No questions, woman. Unbutton my shirt." He caught himself almost smiling again, watching her little freckled hands fumble at her task. Hard not to smile at his babies' mama, ever since he'd gotten used to the idea that she was serious and wasn't gonna change her mind on him. Once his torso was bared, he watched her little auburn head lean in and kiss each of the letters of her name on his chest.

"Oh, ya like it now, do ya?" he asked, his hand tightening in her hair. "Couldn't stop sayin' how dumb I was fer doin' it for a while."

"You were drunk! I like your brother more than you do and I'd never let him tattoo my body, much less drunk!"

"He picked it up in prison," Daryl reminded her, cradling her head in place now. "I ain't sorry fer it."

"This shit is relationship kryptonite," she panted, her fingertips on his nipples. "Even if it is really nice. We don't have a choice but to stick together anymore, I s'pose."

"Hell, woman, I got the tattoo two years ago, where the hell was that line of thought earlier this year?"

Sarah laughed, earning her a swift shove onto the mattress and hungry hands aggressively attacked the buttons on her shorts from behind.

"Think it's funny, huh?" he asked, holding her hips still with one arm and slowly grinding against her. Sarah gasped sharply, arching her body into his. He couldn't help but chuckle this time, though he tried to pepper in some spite. "Good Lord, woman, yer worse than Merle with them goddamn needles and pills, aren't ya?"

Sarah nodded quickly. "Y-yeah. I need you more than he needs them. 'Specially now. You're the only thing that makes me feel safe anymore, with those things runnin' around."

Daryl growled and kissed her hungrily. He had to stop that kind of talking at a time like this before he started feeling weird about it. The only way to come to terms with being told he was worthless trash all his life was to accept and believe it, and having someone say otherwise brought on all kinds of uncomfortable questions that he didn't think he'd ever be able to deal with.

The hunter's adroit hands moved clothing just enough out of the way for penetration to be possible and pushed Sarah's knees apart. She reached for a pillow to balance her weight with and barely managed to stuff it underneath her chest before she could feel him, rough and not at all hesitant. Her body rocked right along with his involuntarily and she understood he didn't mean for her to do much more.

"Ya like it like that? Ya like it when I fuck ya like 'is?" came his husky voice from behind her. Sarah nodded, grasping at her pillow, and Daryl smirked. It was too hard to talk dirty when they were fucking and he was looking at her face. Some gentlemanly part of himself couldn't stand to look at Sarah and tell her just how hard she got him, how much he loved how wet she was, the way she felt around him, or any such notion. When they were fucking like animals anyway, though, anything was fair game. Daryl dug his nails into the soft curve of her side and tried to angle himself for a little bit deeper contact. "Go on, girl, I wanna hear ya say it."

"But Daryl. . ." God, he could practically hear her blushing. Daryl braced himself and thrust harder against her, which only made her call out and spread her thighs wider involuntarily.

"I been all out there and didn't see no danger. I wanna _hear_ it now, don'tcha fuckin' hold back on me. I promise, girl, I ain't holdin' back a _damn _thing on you."

"I knooow," Sarah groaned, panting heavily for both the pace and the strain Daryl's movements and weight put on her lungs. "Fuck, I love it when you do this to me, baby, I don't know how I ever lived without it. Promise you'll fuck me like this every day?"

"I ain't promisin' yer spoiled ass _shit_." Daryl smirked again when he heard a heartbroken, dazed little whimper. "I always deliver, don' I? You tryin' to say I don't take care of _my woman_?" Daryl grabbed at the auburn hair he saw lashing side to side in front of him.

"N-no – oh, _God_. . ."

"What'd I say about holdin' back on me?"

On top of the RV, Shane ground his teeth and paced, shotgun on his shoulder. He wasn't exactly having to strain to hear the Dixons right now, and he'd fucking had it. It was just plain rude. Didn't those two understand there were children running around this camp? Didn't they get that they were a fucking noise hazard? He'd cornered Daryl a few days before to complain again, only to be told that the man risked his own life on a daily basis to provide food for the camp and clear out any walkers that got too close to camp and he could fuck his woman whenever he wanted to, thank you very much, and would Shane kindly go fornicate himself?

What was worse, on a private level. . .well, not everyone had a sex-crazed, sexually-frustrating redhead to come 'home' to. Time had more than told that Lori wasn't about to change her mind and it had been _weeks_ for him. He didn't want to be that bad a guy, truly didn't mean to notice the things he'd started noticing, but he'd liked and had a special desire to keep Sarah safe ever since he'd met her, which was only intensified by the time all those weeks ago she'd told him about her life with her deceased ex-husband. It was hard not to notice how sweet she was with the little ones, or how she never seemed to realize she shouldn't be bending over all the time in the kinds of shorts she wore, or just how fucking pretty she could be when she would walk back to camp toweling off her wild hair. As much as he didn't want to, when he could hear the woman's exclamations from a way's away, it was impossible _not _to think about her freckled face, her crooked smile, the sway of her rounded hips when she walked, how she looked stumbling out of her tent with swollen lips and frazzled hair. . .

No. Shane took a deep breath and sat on the lawn chair with his legs crossed. He was not a bad man. He was not the type of man Lori accused him of being. He was not the type of man to lust after another man's wife, regardless of how he felt about that certain would-be redneck Romeo. It was ridiculous, and he admonished himself for not having the strength to keep Sarah as a friend only in his mind. It was one thing with Lori, but he'd more than fucked up their relationship with what they'd done, and even if he hated that cocksucker with all the bile in his liver, Sarah's husband was _alive_. What the _fuck_ was wrong with him?

What was worse, judging by the looks he'd been receiving, someone had definitely noticed. The man had posted himself up by a tree adjacent to the RV and was staring him down even now with that cocky ass grin on his face. Shane took his mind off the noise by locking eyes with the elder Dixon brother, raising one eyebrow at him. Merle chuckled softly to himself and moseyed on over, climbing the RV ladder. Shane's finger twitched where it rested on the trigger guard. Merle was a big ol' boy, tall and broad, but so was he, himself.

"Now," Merle rasped, stooping beside the sheriff, arm thrown casually around his shoulder. "She ain't an ugly girl by any means. Cain't say I blame ya, yer just a man. She's as flirty as 'ey come, that'un, but I known her long 'nuff to know it's she how she is and 'at's all dere is to it."

Shane shrugged his shoulders. "Sarah?"

"Yeah, y'go right on pretendin' ya don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout if it helps ya sleep at night, but here's my fuckin' point. 'At's m' Baby Girl and my little bro's woman. You lay one 'a yer dirty fuckin' pig fingers on 'at girl, I'll fuckin' kill ya with m' bare hands." Merle patted the man on the shoulder and stood, grinning once more. "Enjoy the rest 'a yer watch, now."

Shane narrowed his eyes and watched the man leave. It was too dangerous to put up a fight about being spoken to like that. No need to alert anyone else to the situation.

In the tent, Daryl gently pushed his devastated little woman into a supine position on their bed. He reached for the bottle of water kept on the ground beside them and handed it over before crashing beside her.

"Thank you," Sarah rasped, pulling a sheet up to her breasts.

"Welcome, baby." Daryl wrapped his arm around her middle, pressed right up to her side. Sarah blinked a few times. Daryl had never in her recollection ever made such a bold move to. . .dare she even think the word? Cuddle. That was what was happening. He was cuddling. Dear god. Down the line in their relationship, he'd become accustomed to _her_ putting her arms around _him_ and being kissed and nuzzled and all that happy shit for a few brief moments after sex, but he'd never been able or willing to reciprocate, much less initiate. She felt his nose moving behind her ear, his lips press softly against her skin, and she was almost uncomfortably reminded of her very short-lived tryst with Scott Rankin, the oncologist.

"What's up?" she asked softly, hand in his darkening hair. To think, this man had been born tow-headed.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with a man kissin' his wife, woman."

"Never said it was wrong," Sarah whispered, lying down on her side to face him. She had to be careful, now. Daryl was as easy to spook in emotional situations as a baby deer or a nervous mare.

"So shut up and let me kiss on yer funny-lookin' face. Good Lord."

Sarah smiled, arms firmly enclosing over him. There was an undeniably radiant burst of pure pleasure in her chest as the man she'd known and loved for years explored her in a way that was so new to him and her both.

"Things are gonna be different now," Daryl promised huskily, his mind set on the child he knew in his heart was already created. "It's all gonna be different, I swear. You ain't ever gonna hurt for nothin', understand? None of mine will. I'm gonna take care of things and I wanna _know_ ya believe me."

Sarah nodded quickly. "I always knew that. You're a good man, Daryl. You'd never let anything happen to me. Or anyone else you cared about."

"No, yer not listenin' to what I'm sayin'. Our family is everything to me, everything I got. I'd sooner die 'en see somethin' happen to it. An' I mean that."

"No, I do get it, Daryl." Sarah kissed his knuckles. "Promise I do. I know there's nothin' you won't do."

Daryl exhaled slowly, looking her dead in the eye now. All the light-hearted, lazy cuddling had dissipated with the serious calm in their tent. He touched his forehead to hers. "It ain't always gonna be this easy. We're gonna come on sum situations that. . .well, I'mona have to do shit I wudden ever do if the world was right. Understand? All I need is t' know, no matter what, I got ya on my side."

"Absolutely. 'Til the day I die."

Daryl closed his eyes and kissed her one more time before reaching for clothes. "Don't count on that bein' any day soon. You bes' get dressed, baby. 'Bout time for school."

"I think I'm gonna pop in on Merle real quick. Haven't really seen him all day." Sarah wriggled her way into her shorts and tank top, then grabbed her purse. "Your watch at noon?"

Daryl nodded.

"I'll make sure to join you for lunchies when I get done telling the kids all about Andrew Jackson and all the people that tried to kill him," Sarah said, for the first time noticing her trembling limbs. Daryl stepped closer now and kissed her hair.

"Don't let Merle convince ya to go for _any more_ runs or other exercise shit. Ya ain't trainin' fer the Marine Corps and if I catcha sayin' that '1, 2, 3, 4, United States Marine Corps!' shit again, I'm gonna take ya over m' knee, and not in a fun way. You gotta be real fuckin' careful from now on. I can't have nothin' happenin' to ya."

"It makes him so happy, Daryl!" Sarah gently protested, pouting up at him. She rolled her eyes when his expression didn't change. "Okay, fine."

"No more fuckin' oorahs or Devil Dog bullshit, he got himself discharged years ago. I don't know what kinda wild shit is goin' through his weird little head these days, but he ain't draggin' you into it. You bes' be _careful_."

Sarah couldn't help but laugh. "So overprotective these days. Go_lly."_

Daryl winked. "Yer mine to overprotect. Go see 'bout him, now. I'm gonna clean the weapons. Got yer pistol?"

Sarah plucked it up off the table and tucked it away safely on her person.

"Good girl. Arright, see ya in a bit."

Sarah grinned and tightened her grip on her white bag, trotting off in the direction of Merle's tent only to find it empty. Shrugging, she let her legs carry her a hundred or so yards down the trail toward the little niche Merle had carved for himself. It was something of an isolation refuge for when too many others and all his symptoms became too much for him, but she was more or less usually welcome. "Merle?"

She saw him lean out from behind a tree and nod her his way.

"What's up?" she asked, plopping down beside him on the grass. Merle scanned over her quickly, his jaw set as he thought of that fucking cop looking at his baby sister like some sort of gross plaything. Fucking disgusting. "What'd I do? Why ya mean muggin'?"

He shook his head. "Nothin' doin', li'l bitch. Whatcha want?"

"Say hi and all, haven't talked to you today. You and Daryl find much out there today?"

Merle shook his head. "Nah, not today. Mostly did bro shit."

"Ahh," Sarah said, reaching in her bag to pull cigarettes out for the both of them. Glenn was incredibly kind enough to pick up a few cartons whenever he could. Merle watched with distaste as she lit up. "What's up with Daryl these days? He's been acting kinda different. Not bad, mind, just not like himself."

"Put that shit up," Merle snapped, snatching the cigarette from between her lips. "Yer a fuckin' nurse, should know better."

"What?" Sarah asked, brows furrowed. "Fuck are you on about, Merle? You really high or something? Don't do that again."

"Bitch, _you_ was always the one talkin' about how smokin' when ladies 's pregnant fucks the kid up, and we can't afford to fuck this kid up any more than Daryl bein' its daddy. I'm quittin' shit and so're you." Merle brought the cigarettes to his own mouth, staring at her bewilderedly. "Dumb bitch. I'm fuckin' lookin' after ya, just like always."

Sarah stared blankly at him, all the blood run out of her face. "What?"

"Cain'tcha hear? Daryl told me. I know it was supposed to be some big fuckin' secret and I don't give a shit. Ya don't keep things like that from ol' Uncle Merle."

The auburn-haired woman stood then and walked off, numbly going wherever her feet took her. By the time she reached the creek that had become the designated bathing area she was hyperventilating. Oh God, Daryl, _no. No, no, no._

Water up to her knees, Sarah quaked and felt a sob rip out of her throat. "Oh God, please. Please, Mother Mary, bring me peace. Please make it all okay. Please, please help me. It's all wrong. I didn't want him to find out like this. This is what I get, isn't it? This is my punishment. Forget me then. Forget about me, God, please just bring peace to my husband. Have mercy on me. Intercede. Give him the power not to hate me and please, God, don't let it be this."


	9. Chapter 9

_To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,  
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,  
To the last syllable of recorded time;  
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools  
The way to dusty death__._

_Macbeth Act 5, scene 5_

Merle took off running in the direction of the noise, fearing the worst. He hadn't exactly understood what was going on when his sister-in-law abruptly left, assuming she had to take a piss or something, and now he could hear her in the distance sounding like she'd been attacked or gut shot. He stomped through the water to get at her and wrapped both thick arms around her, one covering her mouth.

"Fuck're ya doin'?" he hissed in her ear, and immediately after looking at her face he knew he was in way over his head. ". . .Baby Girl? What happened to ya?"

Sarah turned around in his arms and grasped at him desperately, like she'd never been allowed to before, as though they stood in a river and not a creek and the current would take her away if she didn't hold on. She sobbed openly again, the grief palpable and paining even Merle, somewhat. His gut turned and he narrowed his eyes.

"Y'ain't preggo."

Sarah shook her head, unable to even cry anymore. It was all just noise.

"And ya never meant to give 'im that impression."

Another shake of her head. Merle sighed heavily.

"Cut 'at shit out and tell me what happened."

"I _was_!" Sarah whimpered, fingers clutching his vest. "Before. I lost another baby. I couldn't tell him."

Pain and anger twisted like a knife in Merle's gut. He knew even better than Daryl did, or at least _understood_, that her miscarriage in her first marriage had a lot to do with the reason she never would have kids with Daryl.

"I guess it was just a matter of time, right? I-I-I mean w-we all make mistakes and we cou-coulda messed up with birth control any time. I had no idea I was pregnant until it was too fucking late, Merle, I swear. I still got my period and everything. I was fourteen weeks and they fuckin'. . .took me to the labor ward. Pushed Pitocin and I delivered. I fuckin'. . .gave birth to a dead little boy. He had something wrong, he never would've made it. I named him Daniel Adam and buried him at Crestview and I miss him so fucking much every day. That was what I wanted to tell you that night on the RV when we were talking. After my pregnancy ended," Sarah couldn't stand to refer to it another way, "I got an implant called Mirena. It's real good birth control that lasts up to five years. So I can't get knocked up any time soon. And I've wanted to, believe me I've been _wanting _to get pregnant again ever since I had to put my _boy _in the ground, I can't help it, but I have no business getting pregnant, anyway, Merle – look at the world we live in now! How could he think I wanted to bring a child into a world where every day you face the risk of gettin' eaten alive?"

"Why didn' ya tell 'im, girl?" Merle asked incredulously, still holding his sister in the running water. "He woulda been there. Daryl woulda done the right thang."

"Merle, I fuckin' lost the son he's been dying for since he was a kid. He already looked at me like I was a monster every time I came over to see the dog or pack a few more things," Sarah wiped her eyes with her hands. "I don't know what to do. He's gonna leave me or kill me for this."

Merle rolled his eyes. "Don't be so fuckin' dramatic."

"That's why he's been saying and doing such nice things lately," Sarah realized, her heart sinking. "Of fucking course it couldn't be just because of me, had to have something to do with having kids."

"If youda just fuckin' told him instead of misleadin' 'im, this wouldna happened. Yer gonna tell 'im now, is what yer gonna do. Man deserves to know his son is gone."

Sarah's distraught sobs started again and Merle simply put one arm around her back, the other behind her knees, and scooped her up.

"No, Merle, no!" she begged, wriggling in his arms. "I can't go back like this! Please, I don't wanna upset him-"

"Coulda fooled me," Merle interjected, readjusting her in his arms. "Yer a selfish, spoiled brat, y'know that?"

"Can you imagine what they'll all think happened if they see you carrying me back to camp looking like this? I got my fucking gun, if you have to do this, just take me out to the woods and bring Daryl to me."

"Yer a fuckin' dumbass too. I'mona set ya down and yer gonna walk. I wudden try and run if I was you."

"Why are you talkin' to me like I'm fuckin' evil?"

"Shuddup, woman." Merle was unable to keep himself from feeling anger for his little brother any longer. If he was honest with himself, he too felt grief over the little fella he could've played football with and taken out hunting. Daryl worked hard and Sarah came complete with a college degree that meant she'd never hurt for a job. They could've made a good life for that boy. It didn't have to be the way it'd been for them.

Sarah faltered when Merle set her roughly on the ground, but his hand wrapped around her forearm tugged her along and didn't allow for any breaks. Daryl sat up straight when he saw the pair approaching his position around his campfire; Merle practically threw the man's wife at him and stalked off to be alone. Daryl's jaw dropped and he regarded Sarah carefully, taking it all in.

"Come with me," Sarah whispered, nodding toward their tent. Merle was right. She was mean and selfish and spoiled and she had to do this now. She should have swallowed her sense of self when this happened and fucking told Daryl then, like a real woman and an honest, respectable person.

"Sarah, what the fuck happened? I told ya _no more Marine shit_," Daryl snarled, finding a towel to wipe her down with. Sarah reached for his arms to hold him still and looked him in the eye.

"Daryl, I have something to tell you, but I'm gonna have to ask you to give me your knife first."

The man felt like he wasn't even breathing and he just stared back at her for a few long moments as the horrible possibilities crept into his mind. Suddenly, Sarah'd fucked his brother, fucked every single man in their camp, even fucked the blonde lady. "Well, git it offa my belt."

Sarah threw the weapon across the tent quickly and nearly descended into tears again, but forced herself to remain maintained and collected.

"What'd ya do?" he finally asked, his voice even and empty.

"I buried our son and I didn't tell you," Sarah said softly. Better to just get on with it, she'd decided, but the confusion and fear on his face still hurt more than she'd thought it would.

"Fuck are you even talkin' about?" he asked, but a part of him knew what she must've meant and all of a sudden he felt very, very ill.

"Listen, okay? A month before the walkers, I was at work and I started having all these. . .complications. They did an intake on me in the ER when I fell and we. . .we found out I had mis—" Sarah couldn't bring herself to say the word. "I lost a baby. Another baby. That makes two. I don't know what it is about my worthless fucking body, not even good enough to keep a kid alive. I'm _so sorry_. I named him Daniel."

Her short speech bled Daryl dry of any speck of hope or emotion he'd ever felt in his life, but the last four words, solidifying everything, confirming his suspicion that she must have seen his little face and decided that he looked like a Daniel. . .it all came rushing back to him with the force of a punch to his stomach. That was certainly what it felt like.

Daniel was his son, and Daniel had been dead for a long time, and he had never gotten to see his son's face, he would _never_ know who Daniel looked like, he would never hold his little boy, he would never be able to make him laugh, he would never know if his son preferred bow hunting or bow fishing, if Daniel would love the taste of fresh roasted duck like he did, he would probably never even get to visit whatever tiny grave Sarah had had set up for him. His baby was gone forever and he'd never even known about him before this moment, but Daryl had never imagined anything could hurt this bad when it wasn't delivered by a bullwhip on his chest or the toe of his father's boot smashing against his face. Not since he was a child had Daryl been so disarmed, his knees hitting the dirt, simply unable to hold his weight any longer. He looked up at Sarah finally, feeling as though he'd aged a hundred years before her eyes, and watched as she dropped down beside him.

"I didn't mean to!" she whispered quickly, trying so hard not to cry again. "I'm _sorry_! Had I known, I would've taken such good care of myself and him, but I didn't know. Dr. Eliot said there was nothin' _wrong_ with me that I couldn't properly carry a baby, so it must just be _me_, right? I'm so sorry, Daryl. I never wanted you to be hurt."

"Why're ya tellin' me this?" Daryl's voice was full of dull anger and a fierce, unrelenting agony. "Why ya didn't just _tell me_?"

"I didn't want to be your burden anymore, I guess."

"What, the woman I wanted back more'n anythin' and the little – my fuckin' _son_. . ." Daryl brought his hand to his forehead and he gasped for breath as his heart raced. "You ain't a fuckin' burden, y'stupid fuckin' bitch. Goddamn."

Sarah wrapped both arms around him before she could help herself and pressed a kiss against his scalp. "I'm so sorry, Daryl. It's been so hard for me to not say anythin', but I was so scared."

"Yeah, 'cause you think I'll fuckin' start beatin' on ya," Daryl snapped, immediately attempting to withdraw pain from the situation and convert it into anger, something he understood and could handle much more readily.

"How would _you_ feel?" Sarah asked, arms around herself now where she sat on the ground. "I know I had it better 'an you growin' up, but you don't know what it's like to feel helpless when you're an adult. When you're big and there's still nothin' you can do to protect yourself. It has nothing to do with you, Daryl. I'm sorry about Marcus, okay?"

Daryl scowled. "I s'pose yer gonna start throwin' it in my face Merle's the one that saved ya an' not me? Why don'tcha tell me why it is ya went after me and not him?"

"What does he have to do with _anything_?" Sarah asked, sitting up on her knees now. "Merle just happened to show up, you'd told me you were gonna be there half an hour from then, anyway. . ."

"Yeah, if it wasn't too fuckin' late," Daryl snapped at her again.

Sarah blinked. "Are you mad at me because Merle stopped my ex-husband from beating me to death? What does this have to do with our son?"

"See!" Daryl growled, standing on his own two feet again and pacing around the tent. Nothing he was thinking or saying or doing was making any sense, but he wasn't stuck on Daniel as long as he was yelling at his wife for the wrong man saving her again and again. "Ya think I don't know it was s'posed to be me and not my brother? I had to send him after ya in Atlanta or ya would've fuckin' just stayed and gotten et. Ignorant cunt. Rather stay in Atlanta and fuckin' die than leave with _me_, but Merle shows up on that fuckin' bike and ya just _ride_ away in the sunset, huh? Is that was goin' through that empty little head 'a yers?"

Shocked, Sarah slowly stood. "Daryl, I don't think you're listening to what you're saying right now."

"'Course I am!"

"None of that ridiculous bullshit is true. You're acting like a fucking idiot."

"Fuck you too!"

"I know you've convinced yourself for fucking years that I always wanted Merle and settled for you—"

"What, now yer gonna admit it? Know what, stupid bitch?_ He never wanted you. _He mighta fucked ya if the fancy ever struck him, but he woulda thrown ya out like fuckin' _dog shit_ and never looked atcha again."

"—but that's not true, it wasn't _like_ _that,_ and you're being a major fucking dick. I mean, I get you're upset and angry, it's our son and he's gone and I never had the guts to tell you, but don't you fucking sit there and act like you'd rather me be dead than Merle been the one that come and helped me—"

"Yer _lyin'!" _Daryl pointed a finger in her face. Anything to ignore Daniel, for even just a few seconds more. Anything to keep that kind of pain at bay.

"God, enough with your fucking endless inferiority complex!" Sarah cried, one hand in her hair.

"Enough with yer fuckin' _dick_ complex!"

"I can't get pregnant! That was the point of all of this! You thought the reason I wasn't worried about condoms was because I wanted to get pregnant – believe me, I do, more than _anything_, more than _you've _ever wanted a baby, I'm sure – but it's because, after I had to deliver my dead fucking son, after I was healed up enough, I got Mirena. It lasts five or six years."

Daryl stopped pacing, stopped glaring, stopped breathing.

"No," he shook his head, voice low. She'd talked about it a lot before, but he'd always managed to convince her otherwise. Sarah let out the breath she'd been holding and touched his shoulder.

"Don't you think it's better this way?" she asked. "Don't you think it's better we can't do this right now? That we have the kind of protection others don't?"

"You always been like this," Daryl said, a horrible hopelessness Sarah'd never heard in his voice before present. "Truth is, you ain't ever gonna do it. You don't want my babies."

"That's not true, either," Sarah reached for his arm. "I'm afraid of what might happen."

"Ain't got any faith in me."

"I have faith in _you_, but I know there's shit you just can't control."

Daryl plucked up his bow and knife from the ground and turned to leave without another word.

Just like that, Sarah numbly watched him walk away. She hadn't expected any less, she supposed. She sat on their bed for a moment, allowing a very brief second of mourning for her son, whom she'd locked away in her mind and heart so long to keep this from happening, then changed from her wet clothes and held her pistol in her hand, walking with purpose to Merle's occupied tent.

He didn't look friendly when she got there.

Sarah held out her weapon. "Don't even say anything, I need to cover Daryl's watch. Trade guns with me, I'll give it back to you when it's your turn tonight."

"He gone?" Merle asked, hand on his rifle. Sarah nodded and he exhaled roughly. "Yer his problem, so I won't say nothin'. Here. Just cleaned it."

"Really? Really Merle? 'Cause he's the only one this affects?"

Merle only glared at her coldly, so she left. This was all there was left to do, Sarah told herself, to just move on and do what had to be done. Daryl was going to want to be alone now, regardless of whether or not he intended for them to stay together, Merle was going to be pissy and mean until someone else made him angry, and she was going to do what needed to be done.

"Hi Sarah," Carol waved when she approached. The gun in the nurse's hands took the older housewife by surprise. Everyone knew that she carried a pistol and everyoneknew _that_ gun belonged to her brother-in-law.

"Hey, Carol." Sarah looked up to Shane on his chair, shotgun across his lap. "About time?"

The cop tilted his head to the side. "Huh?"

"It's about noon, ain't it?"

"Yeah. . ." Shane sat up uncomfortably. "S'goin' on? Where's your man?"

Sarah silently thanked the Lord above that they'd kept their voices down. "He went after a big buck. I'm takin' his watch."

Shane shook his head quickly. "Nah, that's fine Miss Sarah, I can get someone to cover for him."

"Like shit you will. That's my husband and his watch and I'm gonna cover it. I could take this fucker apart and put it back together again no problem, Merle made sure."

Shane's eyebrows quirked. It'd been a long time since she'd been so forceful of opinion. He watched Carol approach the woman from behind.

"Sarah, don't you think it's a good idea to let the men handle this?" Carol's light blue eyes blinked a few times at the expression on her friend's face. "I went by earlier to see if you were still coming to school and Daryl said he didn't even know where you were at. In his way, you know, grunts and sentence fragments. Did something happen?"

"Carol, enough of this woman's work, man's work bullshit, okay?" Sarah shouted. "I may not be as strong as Shane or some of the other guys, but I'm willin' to bet I could give Jim or Glenn a run for their money, and you could too if you'd stop being such a damn fool."

Shane's heavy footsteps on the metal roof could be heard before his descent down the aluminum ladder.

"Well fine there, Miss Hotshot," he said, placing himself between her and Carol. "Climb on up if ya think ya got what it takes to keep a whole camp safe."

Regretting her cruel words to her friend, Sarah made her way to her little perch on the RV. Carol was gone. "Someone tell the kids there's no history lesson today."

"What?" Lori asked, returning from laundry detail. "So now you're not even going to contribute at all? That's nice."

"I'm up here, aren't I?" Sarah asked, fingering the scope on her brother's rifle. "We'll go on as usual tomorrow, just so you know. Daryl saw a buck."

"And he thinks it's okay to send his wife up in his place to protect camp?" Lori scoffed, turning her back on the discussion. "Some winner you picked out there."

Sarah's nostrils flared and she had to bite back a string of insults and unkind insinuations. She decided against responding to anything other than the horizon and any danger therein, going so far as to blatantly ignore Dale when he approached with all of his wisdom and empathy. She listened to the steady pattern of footsteps, voices, and wind in the trees, wondering where out in all of that green her husband could possibly be, and if he was safe.

* * *

Ungracefully trailing through old and dead leaves, Daryl came to rest on top of a large boulder he used as a marker while hunting. He was alone now, and as bitter as it made him, he could do this.

If Sarah was fourteen weeks pregnant a month before the walkers, that meant she had been six weeks when they'd broken up. The irony of the situation chilled him. Hadn't that been what'd done them in? It'd finally come right down to it. He'd given her a ring and everything and she still couldn't say that they were definitely going to have children of their own one day, not just dogs. They'd been together going on five years and she still didn't know if she wanted to have his babies or not.

Then one night they'd gotten into it over this issue for the last time. In anger he'd told her he couldn't marry a woman that didn't even love him enough to give him his babies, and she'd reared a fist back and punched him right across the face. Daryl caught himself smiling a bit at the memory. Merle had taught her how to throw her weight into a punch pretty damn good. So far, Merle seemed to have taught Sarah all the things he'd taught Daryl growing up; how to throw a punch, how to shoot a gun, how to clean her gun, how to pick a lock, how to make homemade Jägermeister. . .

_Daniel_. It was his uncle's name, the one that'd taken him in after his father murdered his mother and he'd been given over to Merle, who ran off to join the Corps shortly after. Again he found himself reminiscing, thinking back on how he'd eventually told Sarah one night when he was terribly drunk how he'd woken up when he was nine years old to the sound of a gunshot down the hallway.

Maybe he'd been foolish to think in the first place that a lady like Sarah would ever want to mix in with that gene pool, because it admittedly wasn't a great one. She probably should've run when he told her about that night, if not before. With the exception of his uncle Dan, who owned a small farm and stayed clear of trouble, his family was full of nothing but violent drunks and anger. Dan had always told Daryl that he was the best of a bad situation, and that that wasn't saying much, but if Daryl worked very hard and didn't turn up like his shithead older brother, the one that had stolen one of Dan's tractors for a joyride and gotten it stuck in mud, he might turn out pretty okay.

"_Ya ain't much to look at, kid, __and ya ain't all that smart, but a woman wants a man that'll take care 'a her."_

Sarah came from good stock, though, so Daniel would have had a chance. A nice Catholic girl from all the way down in New Orleans. A genteel French Creole family peppered with Irish on her mama's side. A real daddy's girl, or daddy's little princess, rather; the only princess born into a family full of troublesome, football-playing, hunting, drinking, boys. He never really met Margaret Moultrie, but Sarah's daddy had been. . .different than what he expected. Good people, but certainly different. Daryl had never been gator hunting before. Carter had taken him out on that boat, called him his fifth son, and started up the motor. Sarah was born and bred to be the good kind of person that she was, and he simply wasn't at all.

Maybe Daniel would've had his granddaddy's kind brown eyes and his mama's crooked grin. Maybe Daryl would've taken his family further out to the east and he would've been able to take Daniel gator hunting. Daniel would've grown up differently than he did. His son would've been shown how to treat a lady, would've seen his daddy love his mama, he'd never see cocaine dusted on the kitchen table where he ate his Cocoa Puffs, and Daniel would never, ever have a hand lain on him.

Just like that, Daryl was angry again, grinding his fist against the warm rock he sat on. What or who the fuck was it that decided his son didn't deserve a chance to live? Maybe Sarah knew what had happened and just couldn't say. In his heart, Daryl knew she wasn't to blame, but the very thought of her had him up at arms. Hearing a snarl behind him, Daryl jumped from his boulder and turned on the walker without even a thought to how close it was to camp and drew his knife. The seasoned hunter let out a snarl of his own and drove the knife he'd purchased years and years ago deep into the side of the thing's head, stabbing over and over as he thought of the injustice of it all.

Oh well, he supposed. Daddy'd always told him no one ever said life was fair.

* * *

It was nearly midnight and Sarah had pulled a double shift, ignoring everyone that attempted to bring her down from the RV and never letting herself waver in her task. Well, almost. She'd done pretty well, she thought, but the emotional toll of the day and the long hours peering into the distance had her eyes itching.

"Sleepin' on the job, Sarah Palin?"

The woman jumped, gasping. "I voted for President Obama!"

Shane snickered, crouching down beside her. It was especially bright tonight with the clear skies and the ethereal starlight from above, and she looked radiant. "Lookitchoo, totin' around that rifle and scarin' off anybody that tries to relieve you. Boy, 'at musta been some fight."

"I'm sure you were just an ace investigator, Officer," Sarah rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "I'm busy."

"I came t' keep ya company, not t' drag you off the roof, easy there now." Shane held out a small package of Cheez-Its. "I wouldn't share these with just anybody, Miss Sarah."

"Oh, Daryl eats those things, not me," Sarah blurted. "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like such a bitch. I'm glad Glenn keeps findin' that gross shit for you."

Shane laughed again and reached out to fake-slug her knee. "More for me, I reckon. Thank ya for the haircut the other day, by the way. Feels so much better now."

"Your hair is so thick. I wonder how you can stand it. I'd've given up by now and shaved my head," Sarah admitted softly.

"So you think you can cut it high and tight like your ol' pal Merle?"

"Nope. That's his signature. That and his vest."

"Aw, c'mon! Y'know, my friend Rick, Lori's husband, when we were in police training, he kept his hair high and tight. Looked so dang goofy. I's looking at Lori's photo albums earlier today. . ." Shane trailed off. Sarah smiled and simply kept her ears on in case he felt like continuing. He almost never did.

"How 'bout this," Sarah turned more toward him. "We'll swap stories."

"Swappin' stories? I'll bite. I just told one. Your turn."

"Oh whatever, that wasn't much of a story."

"C'mon! I been dyin' to hear how Daryl popped the big Q. Good Lord in Heaven, girl, are you _blushing_?"

Sarah laughed behind her hands. "It was untraditional. Your turn."

"Naw, you go right on ahead!" Shane taunted, leaning against her chair. The woman only giggled more and shook her head. "C'mon, at least tell me what's up with that ring."

"What's wrong with my ring?" the woman asked defensively, fingering the band.

"That ain't no diamond, girl, that's a sapphire. I got eyes."

"It's his birthstone! I told him don't ever buy me no diamonds."

"Why not? Diamonds are classic."

"Thank you, De Beers," Sarah rolled her eyes playfully. "Nothin' says 'love is forever' like some overvalued rock clawed from the guts of the Earth by African slave labor. Daryl knew how I felt and he asked me what I'd prefer. I thought it'd be nice to have my husband-to-be's birthstone on my engagement ring."

"So ya knew it was comin'?" Shane asked, crunching on his cheesy crackers.

"Oh yeah," Sarah nodded. "Subtlety isn't exactly one of Daryl's finer traits. He's always direct. Never made any bones about it. Just said 'I'm gonna go lookin' fer a ring, you gonna take it?'"

"You musta been twistin' that arm a lot, huh?" Shane teased.

"Hey, I wasn't in too big of a hurry to get hitched again, now. I never even got a proper divorce before Marcus died. Sumbitch never would give it to me." Sarah really wished for one of those cigarettes now. "Daryl just waited until he found the ring he wanted me to have and he just picked up my little hand and put it on my finger one day. And then he winked at me."

Shane couldn't help but laugh. What a weirdo. "I asked a girl to marry me once."

"Oh? Did she laugh in your face?"

"Naaah," Shane drawled, putting aside his empty wrapper. "It didn't work out in the end, but the beginning was nice. Took 'er out, stuck the ring in the champagne glass when she went to powder her nose, had the violinist come over—"

Sarah chuckled loudly then, eyes squinted shut. "Stop, stop!"

"What?" Shane frowned.

"What the fuck is this, a Hallmark channel movie? Jesus Cee-rist!"

Shane swatted at her leg again. "Oh, yer just a meanie now. Real ice queen. Musta come from shackin' up in the hills with that man 'a yers."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Sarah wiped at her eyes. "Whatever happened to the would-be Mrs. Walsh?"

"Damn girl couldn't figure out how to work a light switch," Shane grinned, remembering his last conversation with his best friend.

"Oh, you sound just like _Daryl!" _Sarah reached down, smacking Shane several times as she laughed. "Always with the fucking lights, I can't believe it. He always said 'Damn, woman, if I can figure out how to put down a toilet seat, you can fuckin' turn out the lights!'"

Shane leaned his face against her knee now, laughing deep from his belly like he hadn't since before. Sarah cackled right along with him. She guessed it was a good thing that even in the middle of the apocalypse folks could still laugh and joke about light bills and toilet seats. The former sheriff wiped at his eyes where a few tears of laughter had leaked and let out a deep breath.

"Now, ya know ya can't stay out here all night," he told her gently. He looked toward her part of camp. "Daryl ain't back yet, baby doll. Ya lookin' after 'im?"

Sarah's smile fell from her face. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm real worried."

"Honey, I know that buck story is pure bullshit."

"Yeah. It is."

Shane mentally opined that it took a real low-life coward to run off and leave his woman alone, doing his job for him, but he knew better than to speak so openly with her about her husband. "Merle gonna look after you tonight? He's due for watch, hours ago."

"No, I doubt he really wants to see me, either. I'm payin' for my sins."

"You ain't got shit t' pay for," Shane said quickly. He reached for her hand, thought better of it, and let his own fall on her wrist. "You do good here."

"'Ey!" Merle lit a cigarette in the dark before them. "Git on down here, Baby Girl. It's the chink's watch now, ain't it, boy?"

Glenn was shoved in the direction of the RV ladder and Merle cocked his head to the side. "Y'hear me, baby sister?"

Sarah pulled her arm away from Shane's touch and stood, stretching out aching muscles. She wasn't sure what he had to say, but it wasn't the time to pick fights. "Be there shortly."

She frowned in sympathy for Glenn as he passed and handed Merle's rifle back to him when they stood beside one another.

"C'mon. You and me gotta have a talk." Merle shoved her pistol in her hands and took off without another word.

"I'm tired," she said, veering for her tent, but Merle whirled back around and grabbed her by the collar. "Hey!"

"I done decided," Merle threw her inside his own tent, "I'm sick 'a this shit. God knows Daryl's 'bout as worthless as dog puke, but he's yer man and yer his woman and that's all 'ere is to it. If he ain't man enough t' getcha to do better, I'll have to be."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sarah asked frantically, nursing her newly-skint knee.

"'At pussy's out in the woods right now feelin' sorry fer 'imself and it's all yer fault," Merle said, pushing her back on the ground when Sarah attempted to stand. "Ya dumb fuckin' bitch. You ain't no catch, now, y'hear? Fuck knows ya could do better'n Daryl, but ya ain't really much better."

"What did you take?" Sarah asked through gritted teeth, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Nothin' ya fuckin' crybaby! Ain't got to t' see that, hell, I _always _known it. Ya know why I like ya so much? 'Cause ya may look it, but ya ain't no better'n me. Yer just the same, matter of fact. Yer a whore, yer a slut, yer a _liar_, yer an addict, yer a drunk, yer ignorant as shit, yer just plain fuckin' _trash_, not even woman enough to tell a man ya partied too much and killed his fuckin' baby."

Sarah's jaw dropped. Merle had been mean at times, but never had he said things that were so very downright _cruel_. "That is _not true._ He had a heart defect!"

"When ya gonna spread yer legs for that cop?" Merle asked, jerking her up to eye level. He grinned spitefully in her face.

"_Fuck you,"_ Sarah seethed, burning tears of pure anger falling down her face. "If Daryl and I do ever get to have children, you won't fucking see them."

A shocking sting erupted across Sarah's cheek and it dawned on her that Merle had actually struck her. She turned her face to his again, cracked her neck, and cleared her throat.

"D'ya think I'm scared of being hit?" she asked. "Do ya? You of all people oughtta know better'n that, Merle."

"Gettin' a good ass beatin' is pro'ly what ya really need," Merle countered, stepping close again. "Daryl ain't much of a man, spite 'a my best efforts, buy yer still just a woman and yer gonna treat him like a man oughtta be treated."

"How can you fucking say that to me?" Sarah asked, truly dumbfounded by this behavior. Merle had been out of sorts lately, sure, he'd gotten some terrible news, absolutely, the world had ended, yeah, but _never_ before had he treated her like such filth. "How can you say shit like that about your own _brother_?"

"Bitch, I already talked to my bro about you and 'is shit," Merle sneered. "Yer one 'a mine, and yer mine t' look after, but 'at don't mean ya shouldn't get popped in yer smart fuckin' mouth. Yer meant t' be a good time, an' if that's ridin' Daryl's cock 'r fishin' with me, it don't matter. Enough's enough. Yer not playin' pals with the cop anymore, yer gonna learn yer fuckin' place, and yer gonna take that shit outta ya and give that man what he wants. When ya knew ya fuckin' failed 'im, ya shoulda saddled him up and tried again."

"Fuck you!" Sarah wiped at her face and turned to go, only to have Merle pull her back roughly.

"See, this here is exactly what I'm talkin' 'bout—"

Sarah pulled the slide back on her pistol and shoved it under his chin in one quick motion. "If you don't fuckin' let me go right now I will blow your brains out all over this tent, I swear to _God._"

Merle peered down and saw her finger was tense on the trigger, the muscle of her forearm more taut than a bow, so he loosened his arms and watched her slip away.

"I don't hafta be scared anymore, of you or Marcus or _anyone_. _Daryl_ _promised me that,_" Sarah growled, backing out of the tent. "This is why Daryl fucking hates you, and I fucking hate you, too. I mean it this time. Truth is, he's been wanting me to just fucking walk away and wash my hands of you for a long time, and I'm done."

Merle watched her back away enough so she could run, and run she did. Sarah reached into her tent for a few necessities and darted back to the main camp. She stopped next to the fire and leaned over her knees, panting so hard she could almost dry heave.

"Sarah, what the fuck happened?" Glenn called, forehead creased with concern. Sarah looked up at him briefly before shaking her head and finishing her short journey. She tapped softly on the flap of the sealed, darkened tent.

"Shane?"


	10. Chapter 10

_Out, out, brief candle!__  
__Life's __**but a walking shadow**__, a poor player,__  
__That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,__  
__And then is heard no more. It is a tale__  
__Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,__  
__Signifying nothing._

_Macbeth Act 5, scene 5_

"Ssh, ssh, ssssh," Shane whispered, fingers in light auburn hair. Sarah stifled another quiet sob and sniffled.

"I feel like such a pussy. I can't even handle anything anymore. I never used to cry like this. It must be all this fucking progesterone in Mirena. I refuse to believe I'm this much of a baby."

"Now, yer a nice lady. It's all right for ya to cry sometimes, especially when stuff like this happens. You done lost a baby, yer man ran off on ya, yer fuckin' psycho brother-in-law talked to ya like a dog. . ." Shane was still figuring out what to do about that. He had more important people to deal with at the moment.

"Daryl was right," Sarah mumbled mournfully. "He was right this whole time. Merle doesn't even give a shit about me. I'm just fun. I loved that man the first time I laid eyes on him. I never believed in love at first sight until I understood it had nothing to do with romantic love. And he just fed off it and never even really cared. Daryl was right."

"Man, that is one fucked up family," Shane opined. Sarah shifted against him.

"You don't know the half of it. They're all messed up and I never should've gotten myself involved," she said bitterly.

"Well. . .maybe not."

"What if he doesn't want me anymore?" Sarah cried anew. "I never meant to fuck it up so bad. I _wanted_ him to know, I knew I should've told him, but. . .how could I?"

Shane shook his head. "I understand how he feels, to be honest with ya, but I also know yer a good girl and ya didn't mean any harm. You been through a lot. He knows you more than me, he oughtta be a man and tend to you 'stead of leavin' you here with no one to protect you."

"I'm sure he thought Merle would see to it I was okay. And there're all of you other men. And Sadie, here." Sarah held up her gun.

"He should be here."

Sarah sighed and leaned away now, crossing her arms over herself in the way she'd picked up from her husband. "I _want_ him to be."

"Well, I'm sure he'll come struttin' back soon, and you can give 'im the what-for when he does," Shane winked, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'm gonna fuckin' blow him and beg forgiveness. And then I'm gonna make him fuck me because this is _unbearable_. I haven't had sex since. . .God, this morning." Sarah groaned in misery.

Shane blinked in the darkness, glad she wasn't so close anymore. "Goddamn."

"Listen, don't judge me, okay? It's not like I can keep it a secret that I fucking have nervous breakdowns if I don't have regular access to Daryl's dick. This is the goddamn apocalypse, I'm allowed to be stressed out."

The sheriff cleared his throat. "N-nothin' wrong with wantin' to spend time with your husband."

"I just want him back," Sarah lamented, hands rubbing her eyes. "Holy shit, it's so fucking late. I feel so bad for Glenn up there, knowing he's gotta go to the city tomorrow."

"He won't be alone this time," Shane promised. "And he'll have the chance to rest before and after.

"I better get back to my tent," Sarah muttered, pulling Daryl's vest tighter around herself. Shane held her arm.

"Just wait now, I don't think you outta go back to your camp tonight. Little too dangerous, 'til you and yer brother make up. Just stay here, I'll take out my extra sleepin' bag and stay outside. One night won't hurt."

"Oh no, Shane, I could never—"

"I insist, now. I'd go crash in the Winnebago, but I wanna make sure he don't try nothin' foolish. Ya came over here 'cause ya felt scared and if ya go back thattaway, yer just gonna be scared again. Everyone's gonna see me sleepin' outside, don't you worry. If Daryl comes back, I'll explain what happened with Merle. You rest now, y'hear?" Shane reached for a blue roll closeby, tapped her on the shoulder, and left, still smiling.

Sarah took a minute to sip from her canteen and let herself calm down. No more crying from here on out, she silently promised. What would Daryl think of her weeping all over the place and telling Shane all of those things? But who else was she supposed to confide in? She was tired of keeping her whole life a secret. Lori just plain didn't seem to like her, in spite of her (admittedly few) efforts, Andrea seemed to look down at her sometimes because of her husband (which really pissed Sarah off to no end), Amy was a twenty year old girl with absolutely no notion of what an adult relationship was supposed to be, Carol had far too much on her plate already, and Jacqui. . .well, Jacqui would probably never be able to look past her relationship with Merle enough to befriend her, and Sarah couldn't blame Jacqui for that.

Shane was there to keep peace and order in the camp. Shane was the first person she'd really thought of when she felt like Merle was going to come after her, which is why she'd run to his tent. He'd always made it perfectly clear that he was available if she ever needed anything at all.

"Shit," she whispered to herself, rubbing her tired eyes again. "Fuck it all, it's time for bed."

Thinking it a little (or a lot) too weird to sleep actually _in_ Shane's sleeping bag, Sarah spread a folded sheet on top of it and laid down with Daryl's vest on top of herself. It wasn't quite the same, but for years she'd snuck his vest out of his truck before he left for the deer camp and this had always done her fine to sleep with until he'd come home.

God, she could only hope he was coming home.

Sarah woke up groaning with discomfort. Her back and neck hurt like a _bitch_. Again she was immensely grateful that Daryl had thought to bring their extensive catalog of camping equipment, because poor Shane had to sleep like this every night – oh shit, she was in Shane's tent. Sarah sat up quickly, Daryl's vest falling in her lap.

Was that _daylight_ out? The woman struggled to stand and pulled the vest back onto her shoulders. How does one exit the tent of the camp leader without seeming like one slept with said camp leader? Ah fuck it, she was wearing her husband's shirt and vest, she reasoned. Shane's spare sleeping bag was rolled up neatly beside the tent flap and holy _shit_ it was bright outside. Lori was definitely not giving her a very nice look, but Sarah grumbled and stretched.

"Where'd he go?" she asked.

"You tell me, Mrs. Devereux," Lori said, wiping down a clean plate. Sarah sighed impatiently.

"Lori, you got something to say to me, why don't you just come right on and say it?"

Dark eyes widened. "What?"

"The name is Dixon, not Devereux, and you ain't the only woman here that's ever seen the Golden Girls," Sarah stepped closer to Lori and the fire. "I been hearin' your snide little remarks for weeks now and I'm just _dyin'_ for you to get the guts to say whatever it is you got on your mind. Promise it won't hurt my feelings any."

"Sarah, it's not like you've exactly garnered any sort of good will your way," Lori rolled her eyes.

"What the fuck do you mean?" Sarah insisted, taking every step the smaller woman took. "I don't overstep my husband's boundaries, but I help! I take care of the sick and injured, I educate the kids, I help prepare the food, I do laundry right beside the rest of you. I love your son. I goof around with everyone and I fuckin' smiled at Ed yesterday before I could stop myself! What the hell more do you want from me?"

"How about you stop shoving your sexuality down everybody's throats?" Lori hissed, holding Sarah's glare with her own. "Everybody in camp is sick of hearing you and Daryl _irresponsibly_ goin' at it five times a day. Everybody in camp is sick of the way you eye every available man like they're some kind of tasty treat—"

"I do _not_ do that!" Sarah shouted, her own eyes widening almost to capacity.

"Says the woman who just came out of Shane's tent," Lori whispered close to the other woman's face. "He doesn't need some New Orleans-grade whore shaking her ass in his face and keeping his attention away from what's important: Keeping this camp _safe_, seeing to _all_ of our needs. Your pathetic need for male attention is obvious and, yeah, _pathetic_."

Enraged, Sarah raised a fist to swing, but a strong hand stopped it just before Lori's face. Merle laughed deep from his belly, pulling Sarah away from her would-be victim.

"Girl, what'd I always tell ya?" the man asked, easily holding onto his struggling sister, who swung and lunged desperately at Lori. "Ya gotta pick on someone yer own size. Right wind would blow that one over."

"She done it the last time, Merle!" Sarah growled, pulling against his arms and strength. "I'm so fuckin' sicka yer stupid fuckin' comments and shitty attitude! You musta never worked an honest day's labor in your life, lady, 'cause all you seem to know how to do is sit around judgin' people and situations ya ain't know _shit_ about!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" came Shane's booming voice. Sarah's head snapped in his direction. "Th' hell is goin' on here?"

"Yer little girlfriend pickin' fights with my baby sister," Merle chuckled, dragging Sarah away from them now. "She be fine in a bit. See ya."

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Sarah seethed by the fire, digging her heels in the dirt. "I don't ever want to see your stupid fucking face again in my life. Let me _go_."

"Ah, calm your lily ass down. Ya woulda regretted it if ya'd beat up the skinny bitch, even if myself and a few others would pay good money to see it happen. I got something fer ya."

"I'll kill you, Merle."

"Here," the man said, releasing her next to his motorcycle. He reached into the saddlebag, producing an eyeglass case. "Sorry, I fergot all 'bout yer birthday until I's diggin' around fer some eyedrops in here."

Sarah opened up the case and gasped. Pink-framed Jackie Ohh Raybans.

"Ya know, replace the ones I smushed," Merle shrugged. "Bought 'em a while ago."

Sarah shook her head. "First of all, my birthday is in May. Second of all, you're thinking of Daryl's birthday, which isn't for another week. Third, only you would make a gift something you were supposed to replace in the first place. That's not what a gift is, asshole. Fourth. . .thanks."

Merle slung his rifle over his shoulder and kissed her cheek briefly. "I gotta go, now."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, blinking at him through gradient lenses.

"Goin' to Atlanta."

"What?"

"Y' heard me, woman, ya ain't deaf."

"What on earth are you going there for?" Sarah asked, holding his arm when he turned to leave.

"Fer you," Merle countered plaintively.

"The fuck?"

Merle smirked. "That cop 'a yers was goin' on this mornin', 'Sarah'll go with Glenn, she'll go to the hospital for medicine and supplies', and I was like, 'the hell she ain't, I'm goin'."

Sarah's brow creased. "He didn't even ask me."

Merle nodded once. "You was sleepin'. Shoulda seen how _darlin'_ he was about everybody keepin' quiet and lettin' Little Miss Sarah Claire get some rest."

"No," Sarah's head shook hurriedly, "nothing happened, Merle. Nothing happened. Nothing at all like that happened. We just—"

"I know what happened, girl."

The siblings-in-law looked at one another for a long time, each one thinking about it, but neither addressing what had happened between them the night before. It'd always been this way, Sarah guessed, with gifts the next day. Merle _knew_ when her birthday was. He liked to roll Cinco de Mayo and her annual bash into a long bender. Merle more than likely bought the sunglasses to replace the pair he sat on one night a few weeks before the walker apocalypse and forgotten about it until he needed some form of gift to apologize.

"Do you think Daryl is okay?" she asked sheepishly. If he wasn't going to say anything, neither would she. It was one of the unspoken rules of being a Dixon. Apologies were never verbal.

"Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon, girl."

Rule three.

Sarah couldn't help but smile. "Will you help me find him if he doesn't come back by the time you get home?"

"He ain't gonna be found if'n he don't wanna be." Merle rolled his shoulders. "But yeah, I reckon we can try. Time to go, now. Baby sis gonna see her big bro off?"

Sarah hooked her arm around his extended one and accompanied him back to the RV where Glenn sat with Shane, going over the list of supplies they needed. Shane looked up at her deliberately, but said nothing beyond the bare bones of the business at hand.

"I don't know if we should hit this many places in one day with so many people," Glenn fretted, lip between his teeth.

"That's why so many people _are_ goin'," Shane contended authoritatively, pointing again at the map of Atlanta taken from someone's glovebox. "More protection. Carry more things. It's pretty clear now that the government ain't gonna just sweep in and save all our asses, so we gotta scavenge before the next man does. We need food, we need water, we need clothes, we need _weapons_, we need medicines, man."

"Ain't nothin' to fear, ol' Chinky boy," Merle said, checking the hammer of his gun. "We make it in and out jus' fine. I been at that hospital so many fuckin' times, I know where all the shit is. Sarah tol' me where the pharmacies were an' how t' bypass them doors. We goin' to the one I got her from. Drove my sled right up in the fuckin' lobby that day, I did. Check 'is fer me, baby sister. Make sure I ain' losin' my touch."

Sarah did a quick check on the gun, but it was perfect. Merle always credited his time in the Corps for how well he handled a gun, and she could only guess that was why he'd implemented such intense and strenuous training during the past few weeks. Some cadences she even knew by heart. At least her ass was like granite now, after all those runs.

"Ship shape," she said, handing it back to him. Merle grinned and winked.

"Bes' be on our way 'en, Chinky. S'go."

Andrea and Jacqui stood close by with bags strapped to their backs and T-Dog strode up carrying his Louisville Slugger and an empty duffel bag.

"Which vehicle are they taking?" Sarah asked Shane, squinting in the noon sunlight.

"Glenn's car'll still do 'em," the sheriff stated, refusing to look her way. "Better load up now, Glenn. Dale says it's lookin' more and more like rain. Y'all keep the CB tuned, now. T-Dog, you gonna man it? Arright. Be back before the sun starts settin'."

When Shane walked off, Sarah leaned in close to Glenn and winked.

"You worried?" she asked. He tried to smile, and she laughed. "I know you're comin' back, don't worry. You and me got unfinished business with that rash on your knee."

"Yeah. . ." Glenn did smile now. "I gotta be there the next time you go running around camp at night, too."

Sarah winked again and slugged him on the arm. "You keep my brother safe now, y'hear?"

Glenn scoffed, facial expression completely shifting. "Keep us safe from him, more like."

"Oh, what the hell ever. Y'all had better go, I just wanted to say bye for now. Good luck smooch?" Glenn leaned his cheekbone her way and she briefly pressed her lips to it. "All right then, bye! Remember, Marlboro Light Special Blend 100s!"

"See ya tonight, Sarah," Glenn said, baseball cap coming down over his eyes. Merle might actually kill him for that, with as protective and terribly racist as he was. This was going to be sooooome outing.

Sarah waited for Merle to turn around so she could wave goodbye, but he never did. Her smile slowly faded as she watched the vehicle descend the dirt path, and a horrible sense of sadness pierced her right through the bone when she saw it no longer. Her husband was gone. Her brother was gone. There was no guarantee either one was coming back, and she stood now amongst total strangers in a world where they were forced to scavenge dwindling goods in places populated by flesh-craving ghouls to survive. Taking a deep breath, she turned to look for Shane again. She needed to find a purpose for today.

"Wanna go frog gigging?" she asked when she found him on the far side of camp, cleaning his rifle. He didn't look at her. "Wanna fuck?"

His eyes snapped to hers.

"Just seein' if you were ignorin' me or if you'd suddenly gone deaf."

Shane looked back at his task. "Never figured it'd be you causin' problems at camp."

"What, with Lori? What makes you think it wasn't her?" Sarah asked defensively, the toe of her boots not a half-foot from his. "That woman is really rude to me. She apparently wanted a fucking fight and she was gonna get it. I ain't a punk, I'll fucking stick up for myself when people like her run their mouths."

"Dixon through and through, ain't ya?"

"I'm proud of my name."

"Apparently, especially with the way ya run right back t' that shithead of a brother-in-law ya have. I didn't stay up all night givin' you comfort over what he done just to have you be all buddy-buddy next morning."

Sarah gasped a few times incredulously. "That's my _family_."

"Family don't call ya a whore."

"Lori did."

Shane's attitude changed immediately. "Oh she did, did she?"

"Yeah," Sarah nodded, hand in Daryl's vest pocket. "Acted like I've been trying to get you up my snatch since I got here."

"Good God, woman, the way you say things," Shane couldn't help but laugh.

"It's true!" Sarah's eyes widened. "She always says things like that to me! I just couldn't take it anymore, Shane, not after everything I've put up with lately. I know I brought all that on myself, but still. I can only take so much before I push back."

"I'll talk with her. Lori. . .she's been through a lot too, now. You still got a husband."

"She still has a son."

Shane bowed out of that one. "All I'm sayin' is tensions are high all 'round."

Sarah nodded. "For what it's worth, I'd say I was sorry."

"That's real big of you," Shane said, allowing a smile to touch his lips. "Now what about them frogs?"

"Actually, we should really check the snares first," Sarah said, rocking back on her heels. "I doubt Merle did or he'd be all bloody when I saw him."

"I 'spect you need me to come with?" Shane asked, standing slowly.

"I ain't goin' out in those woods alone. No way," Sarah said. She watched Shane walk around her.

"Comin'?" he asked.

Lori watched the pair from where she sat preparing lunch for the rest of the group. She wished she could have expressed herself a little differently to Sarah, but it never seemed to go that way when push came to shove. She wished she could say something useful and profound like Dale or even Shane himself sometimes, just to warn the girl. She was young. Lori didn't know how young, but Sarah didn't seem nearly old enough to be married to a man probably in his late thirties. She didn't even seem to be old enough to fool around with someone Shane's age. Sarah was naïve. Sarah was going to ruin an already shaky marriage if she wasn't careful, and all Lori wished for was the ability to caution the woman from making her same mistakes.

Shane was. . .persuasive. He was a good man, Lori knew, and he worked so hard to keep everyone safe and provide for the camp, but he was just a man, and Sarah was just a woman, and apparently a very vulnerable one, at that. Lori had been vulnerable, too, and now she could barely stand to look at her husband's wedding band around her neck. What did it mean anymore, after what she'd done? Could Sarah not see the danger in the water she was treading? Lori wished for the ability to give Sarah the chance to save herself, even the strength to throw a rope and tug her to safety herself, but all that ever seemed to come out was the bitterness and damnable temper that always left her screaming in Rick's face or slapping Carl's hand.

"_I'm only tryin' to help her, Lori, it ain't like that."_

The look in Shane's eyes when he'd said that to her after Merle had beaten Sarah up in the woods (Lori still didn't quite understand what happened) was still clear in her mind's eye, and she'd known right then what would end up occurring later. He didn't _want_ to. Sarah probably didn't want to, either. Neither of them would intend for it to go down, like people would say on the Maury show or True Confessions, it just would one day, at a time when neither one of them would expect it, at a time when Sarah loved Daryl more than ever (God bless her capacity and/or gluttony for punishment) and Shane truly believed he saw her as nothing more than a friend.

And then Sarah would end up just like herself, Lori conjectured, stirring the beans. Alone and hating herself.


	11. Chapter 11

Let us go then, you and I,  
When the evening is spread out against the sky  
Like a patient etherized upon a table;  
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,  
The muttering retreats  
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels  
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:  
Streets that follow like a tedious argument  
Of insidious intent  
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .  
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"  
Let us go and make our visit.

- T. S. Eliot

_Sarah breathed as heavily as she dared, grasping a tactical tomahawk and standing against the east wall of the pharmacy on the hospital's third floor. She had no idea where Merle had gotten the damn thing, but there certainly was no time for questions right now and she didn't even know for sure that he was alive. The duffel bags at her feet were positively stuffed with different bottles of pharmaceuticals – antibiotics, painkillers, anti-depressants, emergency contraceptives – her mind wasn't working well enough for order in what she'd selected. Without any notion of what was happening, what was _going_ to happen, she had no idea what they would need. _

_A sickening, wet thump followed a harsh intake of breath outside the heavy automated door she stood beside and Sarah gasped loudly, her grip on the weapon tightening._

"_I got 'im!" she heard Merle call, muffled through the steel. The sound of his axe exiting the skull of the thing sounded like a wet rag hitting a shower floor. "It's clear f' now. C'mon out, baby girl. Ya got them bags full?"_

_Sarah punched in the exit code and began pushing backpacks and duffels out, carrying as much as she could herself. _

"_We gotta get outta here, Merle!" she cried, struggling to keep one black strap up over her shoulder. "Do you know what's happening? _Do_ you?" _

"_Hush up!" Merle whispered harshly, hand to her mouth. "Ya mean to tell me _you_ don't know? Shit, girl, you work in the damn hospital, not me."_

"_The people from the CDC just _left_. They never told us anything, they just _left_. Look, they've taken over almost everywhere, we have to go if we're going. _Where_ are we going?"_

"_Aight, listen. We gonna make it down to yer car – ya got it, don't ya? Good. We get down 'ere, put this shit in the trunk, and yer gonna drive me to my bike and we meet up with Daryl at yer apartment. Don't argue." Merle heaped at least twice as many bags onto his own shoulders. "We gotta go, now. Fastest, safest way to get to the car?"_

"_E-emergency elevator," Sarah stammered, looking down at the bodies of her co-workers, people she'd signed cards with, people she'd gone to Christmas parties with, people she'd so often tried to get Daryl to associate with. "It goes straight to the parking lot, and I paid extra to get a good spot. Where're you parked?"_

"_Lobby," Merle rasped. He managed to wink at the shock on her face. "Always wanted to do that, at least once."_

_Sarah rolled her eyes and raised her tomahawk. "Okay. We take a left down this hallway and I have to use my ID to get us to the private access emergency elevators. Those doors are real secure, there shouldn't be but a few back there, if any."_

"_Well, 'es go then. Daryl'll be waitin', and ya know he hates it when yer late, woman. Stay behind me." _

_There was just no time for the petulance that tried to fight its way through Sarah's mouth, even if she didn't give a fuck that her ex-boyfriend used to hem and haw about her occasional tardiness. Merle took off down the hallway, hanging the correct turn on the second try. Sarah moved past him, reaching for the ID card on the bungee cord attached to her blood-spattered scrubs._

"_Please, please. . ." she whispered, her shaky fingers punching in her access code on the keypad. The lock clinked, warning her of the five-second window. Sarah shoved the weight of her own body and the supplies in her bags against the door, making way for Merle behind her, and she found herself pausing once past the threshold. _

_This was supposed to be a safe place. This was where staff exited during emergency situations. A white-haired man in a long lab coat stood not ten feet away, seeming to stare up at the fluorescent lights, but Sarah knew that he wasn't._

"_Dr. Fletcher?" she whispered shakily. The creature turned around slowly, looking at her as though confused, but the tell-tale cataracts brought a choking sob up from her throat. What was happening to these people? The CDC had assured them this new flu would never touch Atlanta. Was it a flu? Was it something like meningitis? What could possibly be doing this?_

"_He was a really nice man," she said, looking back at Merle. "He sent me flowers when I was real sick last month."_

"_Girl, watch out!" Merle shouted, but Sarah beat him to the punch, the weapon in her hand slicing right through the temporal lobe of the thing. She panted softly, looking at it, looking at Merle, looking at her own shaking hand._

"_Whoa," Sarah huffed. "I didn't realize how sharp this thing was."_

_She and Merle looked at one another and a small bubble of laughter erupted between the two of them. What was there left to do?_

Sarah's hands were still shaking, and it had been weeks.

". . .Mrs. Dixon?"

Rick Grimes gazed worriedly down at the bespectacled visage of the young woman he'd been cautioned of. She wasn't yelling. She wasn't crying. She hadn't reached for her gun. She was barely moving at all. He wasn't even sure that she was breathing.

"Mrs. Dixon, I truly apologize about what happened with your husband, but there was no way—"

"He's not my husband, he's my brother-in-law. He's my best friend," came the choking voice finally. Rick watched his own best friend place a careful hand on the young lady's shoulder, rubbing slowly in a circular motion. Oh. Well, if her husband had passed away, God forbid. . .

"Let me just take that gun, sugar," Shane said softly close to her ear. "Just for a while, now, until things calm down."

Sarah's hand covered Shane's where it tried to seize the weapon at her hip. "I _am_ calm, Shane."

"Just lemme hold it a minute. You know I'm givin' Sadie back, you know I wouldn't do nothin' to hurt ya." Shane slowly drew the gun out. Sarah did nothing but let her hand fall away.

"Mrs. Dixon, I would never have apprehended and subdued a man who was acting in a reasonable manner," Rick said, stooping down to the level of Shane's new lady. Maybe he should stop calling her 'Mrs.' All the others talked about on the way from the city was how upset Sarah Dixon was going to be, how badly she was going to take it, Morales lamenting how she would finally make good on her formerly playful promises of a bare-knuckle brawl.

"I know."

Rick's eyebrows rose on his forehead. "You do?"

He watched Sarah nod, her chin wrinkled something awful at this point, but she seemed determined not to cry. "Yeah, I heard all about your goody two-shoes ass from Shane and Lori. I know how he is. I'm sorry for whatever he did, but I can't change it. Just like I can't change he's dead now."

"I did it," T-Dog said from the sidelines. He just couldn't handle it anymore. Merle's final pleas for help were playing over and over again in his mind and he couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Helicopter Boy here chained him up, but I dropped the key down a drain pipe. I _had_ to go. There was nothin' more I could do. Geeks already breached the building. Glenn and Rick risked their lives in a dumbass stunt that just _barely_ got us outta there alive. There just wudden no chance to save him."

The young African-American watched the large sunglasses get pushed back over soft auburn hair, revealing horrified hazel eyes. His heart sank down to his gut and his stomach sank to his knees. Much like Merle, there never really was any telling what one could expect from Sarah next. She always seemed mostly friendly, but she had outbursts of at best violent intent that rang of the company she'd kept in the Dixons for so long. The almost-brawl with Lori came to mind.

"Did he do that to you?" Sarah asked, dabbing her eyes with the rag she pulled out of one of Shane's cargo pockets. She knew the answer though. That bruised jaw and busted lip had Merle's name written all over it. She may have never had a real conversation with the man called T-Dog before, mostly due to Merle's absolute insistence in driving himself between them, but she knew Merle, and she knew who picked the fight. "I am _so sorry_ for whatever he did or said to you. Merle is a really shitty person sometimes. I can only imagine what made it necessary to cuff him."

"It was vile, Sarah," Andrea chimed, Amy wrapped all around her. "He brought it on himself. If Rick didn't do something, we were all going to die. We barely made it out as it was."

"Yeah, well, _he_ didn't make it out," Sarah snapped before blowing her nose. Shane grimaced for the cleanest of his rags, but said nothing. "I already know what awful shit he's capable of spouting off, I don't need you reminding me. He's still my brother."

"Ma'am, I apologize," Rick said softly. He sensed from the situation and the way Shane had his arm around her shoulder now that it wasn't a good idea to touch her himself. "I would do anything in my power to have changed the way things went down and save that man's life, but I can't change the man he was. It's important you know that you couldn't either. He made his own choices."

Sarah looked around at all the eyes fixed on her. Carol looked on with apparent sympathy, even after all the nastiness she'd dealt the poor woman the night before. The new man still had the same worry and confusion in his kind eyes that did not allow her to feel properly angry with him. It wasn't sinking in correctly, anyway. It just came back and back and back again that Merle wasn't about to climb out of that cube truck and demand they go have a smoke or abscond Dale's canoe to go fishing. He wasn't going to throw dead animals at her and ask that they be cleaned. He wasn't going to whine and bitch until she shaved down the sides of his head, leaving the top curls high and tight as possible. He wasn't going to tap his fingers rhythmically against her shoulder blade and talk about Eddie's. He wasn't going to bang on the side of her tent when she and Daryl were fucking ever again. Feeling a sudden fit of claustrophobia overtake her, Sarah leapt up from her lawn chair.

"I can't talk about this," she whispered, leaving them all standing there, bewildered and dumbstruck. Shane stood and placed one hand on his belt.

"I'm gonna go see about her, she shouldn't be alone," he told Rick.

"Always after the damsel in distress," Rick laughed. Behind him, Lori narrowed her eyes at Shane, whose own eyes dropped.

"Well, I'll let you folks reacquaint yourselves. I'll have her back in a bit, I'm sure."

"You think she's gonna be okay?" Rick asked cautiously, the guilt so open and honest in his eyes. Shane cleared his throat.

"Yeah, she'll be fine. She just doesn't realize this is the best thing that coulda happened to her. Merle Dixon was nothin' but a skinhead asshole. Slapped her 'cross the face last night. I felt like beatin' the shit outta that moron, but she wouldn't let me. He was always pickin' fights, puttin' us in danger, and now he can't anymore. It's for the best. Some folks just. . ." Shane watched Sarah enter Merle's tent. "Anyway, we'll be back shortly, don't you worry. Everybody just try and keep calm. Sarah didn't fly off the handle and she's not goin' to. She's a good girl."

Rick watched Shane walk away and almost envied the cold sort of pragmatism the man dealt in. He himself had chained someone to a roof that day and left them there to be eaten alive, and he wasn't sure how he was going to live with that. Shane just walked off after that man's sister-in-law like it was nothing, practically praising Rick for leaving him for dead. Was this what the new world had in store?

"Dad?"

Rick dropped to his knees, a sudden grin taking over his face as his son came closer. "C'mere, buddy. I'm still here, it's no dream."

"Sarah?" Shane called, following her footsteps to the grey tent Merle Dixon had inhabited until that morning. He found her holding up a stiletto dagger, staring at its edge. "Whoa now, Sarah, keep calm. You don't wanna do this."

"Do you know what this is?" Sarah asked, turning the blade this way and that to catch the light.

"Somethin' you really don't need to have."

Sarah laughed softly. "It's an Arkansas Toothpick. I bought this for Merle for his fortieth birthday."

"Oh." Shane's shoulders slackened. "You okay, Sarah?"

"You know how many skulls I saw him put this through at the FEMA camp?" Sarah asked, sheathing the blade. "And yet he didn't take it to Atlanta. Why do you think that is?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you that, Sarah Claire. Come on and let's go see if we can summon up some water for ya. You need some water and some rest. You can take another lie-down in my tent. Ya shouldn't be out all this way by yourself. We need to see about moving one 'a these tents closer to camp."

"Why?"

Shane shrugged. "Merle's gone, Daryl ain't come back in days now. . ."

"He left yesterday morning," Sarah snapped, clipping the Civil War replica to her belt loop. Shane stood back, hands raised in surrender.

"Spoke too soon, I apologize."

"He's coming back," Sarah insisted, and Shane's eyes widened when she reached straight for his belt – he'd forgotten about her gun stashed behind it. "I gotta go take watch or something. I don't know."

"Listen, Sarah Claire, I'm sorry. I _do not _want you stayin' out here by yourself, it's too far away from the main camp to be alone. C'ya imagine what Daryl'd do to me when he came back if he found out I'd letcha?" Shane winked in an attempt at amiability.

Sarah nodded. It wasn't worth the risk or the argument. "Fine. I'll see if Dale will mind me crashing in the RV tonight."

"I can crash there if you'd rather stay in my tent and have some privacy. I got late watch tonight, anyway. By the time you wake up, I'll be ready to go to sleep. It'll work out perfect."

"Well. . .as long as it's no bother to you and I'm not putting you out of your own bed. I'll bring some blankets over, I guess."

"'At's the spirit," Shane smiled, patting her elbow a few times. "I gotta go see a man about a radiator hose. I hear tell Carol's gonna be at the waterin' hole, washin' some laundry. . ."

Sarah nodded quickly. "I'll go. That way Daryl will have some fresh clothes when he comes back. I can't imagine how dirty he must be, fucking _sick,_ ugh."

"I was thinkin' more along the lines of you patchin' things up with your pal," Shane tilted his head, his eyebrows quirked. Sarah sighed now.

"Ah, damn. You're right. I guess I can kill two birds with one stone. Daryl should really be back soon. He's used to being alone out in the woods, but I don't think he'd want me to worry for too long, no matter how mad he is at me." The auburn lady stood. "I'll go gather up that laundry now. I'd do yours to thank you if he wouldn't have such a fit. I'll come up with a way to show my gratitude before too long, I'm sure."

Shane wrapped an arm around her shoulder again, looking carefully at her face and her eyes. "Are ya really doin' as good as ya seem?"

"No," Sarah shook her head. "I'm not. It'll come out sooner or later, but right now I'm doin' good just gettin' some laundry together and wait for my man to come back."

Shane gave a short nod. "I'm here, y'know."

"Yeah. Thanks. I'm sure you'll be one of the first to know whenever shit hits the fan."

"I'll be up at camp, now."

"Going for water soon?"

"I do everyday, don't I?'

"Make sure you take Lucille."

"Girl, I don't go nowhere without my gun."

* * *

Daryl pulled another one of his bolts through another squirrel's carcass and tied the little rodent up with the rest of them. He had to have something to show for the reason he'd been gone so long. He didn't need the questions and neither did Sarah. The buck he'd been tracking on and off for hours would be an even better excuse than the squirrels he had strung up around his arm, but they'd have to do if the venison proved to be too tricky. Normally it wouldn't have been this hard, but he'd taken down two walkers that come outta nowhere and spooked the damn thing already. He was close enough to camp that he'd know if there was any sort of trouble going down and besides, they only seemed to be coming from this direction, and he was clearing them off. Doing yet another public service only his woman and maybe brother would fucking appreciate or give any recognition for. Not that he needed it.

The grief had long been absorbed in his mind and left behind a rage that dwelled beneath the surface of his entire body. He couldn't unlock it, couldn't tap in and let it go, and he knew that meant there'd be some kind of fight, probably between he and his brother, when he went back to camp the next day. Daryl bitterly thought that it was Sarah who deserved the brunt of his anger, but there was no way he'd be able to put it on her, in the end. Sarah was just about the only person in the world that'd earned her place on his safe list, and he wouldn't feel like much of a man to be putting her down like that. There'd been too much good between them. She'd done too much good for him. Regardless of recent facts coming to light, he'd chosen her. It wasn't a choice he'd made lightly. He had told her that from the get-go, and it was a matter of his own honor now. They had a responsibility for one another, and he was going to hold up his end of it even if she'd failed miserably at some point. He ignored the fact that she'd otherwise done her best lately.

It was his boy, after all.

* * *

Sarah dropped her basket of clothing down beside Carol's rock, set her gun inside of it to keep it dry, and took her own seat in the water, as was her habit. It was a nice way to stay cool now that it seemed to get somehow even hotter. Pulling out one of Daryl's crusty wifebeaters, Sarah finally allowed herself to look up at the friend she'd wronged.

"You got any advice for this shit?" she asked, flopping the disgusting garb around in the water. Light blue eyes flicked over the damage. Carol liked being consulted. Carol liked feeling like her sagacious housewife wisdom was valued. Sarah knew this and cherished that she had someone she was close to that could help her be the kind of woman Daryl deserved.

"That man," Carol clucked, shaking her head and smiling. "You can use my washboard. I'll be done with it in just a second. We'll have those shirts Maytag bright in no time at all."

It saddened Sarah to notice how readily Carol forgave and forgot as soon as it seemed that the person who'd hurt her wasn't going to hurt her again momentarily. Breaking the golden Dixon rule, Sarah reached over and patted Carol's arm.

"I'm really sorry about what I said to you yesterday," she said softly, scrunching her freckled nose. "It was so wrong of me to call you foolish. I just want you to know. . .I guess I wantcha to know you're not all alone."

"Oh Sarah, it's okay—" Carol's hands moved in a sweeping motion, as though she could wipe the slate clean literally.

"No, Carol," Sarah let her eyes drift to Ed some distance behind them. He always seemed to hover around his wife, watching her every move. She looked back to Carol. "It's not okay."

The older woman sighed behind her, and neither said a single word for a long while.

"Here's the washboard, Sarah," Carol whispered, setting the laundry aid on the younger woman's folded knees. Sarah took Daryl's jeans to the device with an appreciative smile to her friend. "I'm going to go hang these up to dry, now. I'll make sure to leave some room for your things. I'll talk to you later. It's almost time for school."

"Oh, shit!" Sarah gasped suddenly, water sloshing as she stood. "I forgot all about school! I'll just have to put this aside for now. It'll still be here when I get back, if anybody knows what's good for 'em."

"You're going to talk all about the bloody details of American history with sopping wet clothes?" Carol chanced a small laugh.

"Honey, it's all bloody, and I won't be much wetter 'an anyone else when these clouds let loose. The least they could do is hurry up and give us some shade. . ." Sarah complained, pulling her sunglasses back down over her eyes. "Daryl'd better come back with somethin' good. All I can seem to pull outta those traps is squirrel, and I never had the taste for it he did."

"You seem so different," Carol remarked, not unkindly. Sarah gave her a not unkind shrug in return.

"We are, I guess. In a lot of ways we're total opposites, but every time I think we might actually be like that, I'll learn something new, like how much he really likes putting croutons in sandwiches. . ." Sarah shrugged again, grinning from ear to ear. "I do that, too. It's those tiny things we have in common. Well, not just those. I love him 'cause I love him, I guess. It's everything."

"You're lucky you found the one you love so young," Carol said, shifting her laundry basket on her hip. "I had to wait until I was much older."

"Oh, I dunno. I was twenty-six by the time we met," Sarah said. "We been together so long, it's like he's a permanent fixture. Even when he dumped me, he was still around. You never seen two people hate each other so much and still be so obsessed."

"Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, m'dear."

It applied to both Dixon brothers pretty well, Sarah reasoned. The children were mostly gathered into the schooling area already, although some were clearly more intent to play than sit and pay attention. Sarah sat down underneath a tree and watched as Lori attempted to round the little ones up for the commencement of lessons. As 'math class' began, little Fabiola, the youngest of the Morales daughters, made her way over and plopped down into Sarah's lap, just like she did every day. Sarah smiled and kissed the little girl's cheek.

"Afternoon, princess," she whispered, and Fabiola nodded with dark sparkling eyes. Sarah gave the attentive girl a soft squeeze, the fact that she still had her little lesson buddy on her side truly a salve for her soul. Children were kind of wonderful that way. It seemed like Sarah wished more and more every day that she'd given in years ago and started her own family. If she'd said yes the first time they had that conversation (confrontation, maybe?), their son or daughter would be around Fabiola's age.

It was time for history lessons now, and Fabiola took her old doll to sit beside her sisters. Sarah strode over to where Lori had pulled a large log and sat down, cracking her knuckles.

"What are we gonna talk about today?" Carl asked, and for the first time Sarah noticed Rick sitting beside him. A tremulous chill traveled through her aortas.

Daryl would've been like that. Constantly accompanying their boy, eager to see him learn and grow. Uncle Merle would've afforded actual experiences to force the boy to learn and toughen when he got the chance to, but Daryl would simply observe and provide quiet guidance. He was good like that. He would always know when to let Daniel explore and learn things on his own and when to interfere with patient instruction. One couldn't really call Daryl a patient man, not even Sarah herself, but in her heart she knew the kind of parent he'd be.

It hit her suddenly what kind of man Daryl'd be when he came back to no Merle and the people that'd left him behind carrying on as though nothing ever happened. To _her_ carrying on, waiting for the ball of pain to hit her belly. It'd be a call back to the old days when he seemed to be just made of anger.

Children and parents stared at her. Rick leaned over to whisper something in Lori's ear, not taking his troubled eyes from Sarah.

The nurse cleared her throat. "Today, we're gonna talk about Andrew Jackson."

* * *

A/N: Just want to throw it out there that I have no intention of repeating the dialogue from the show verbatim. It irks me for some reason. I'll be paraphrasing. There's no need to message me and let me know that I didn't get the dialogue exactly right. I know this, lol.

I also just want to take the chance to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this. It makes me so happy when people take time out of their day to drop a line! :)


	12. Chapter 12

Daryl dragged the carcass of his prized buck just to the edge of camp. It was no twelve-point, but it was his first deer of the year, and it would keep them well fed for a little while.

He looked around carefully and considered alerting whoever was on watch, but it was only one, and he didn't doubt the panic that would surely unleash would draw every walker for miles. Couldn't be too careful, now. This was getting bad. It was getting serious. He was going to have a word with this Shane asshole about packing up and moving on to Fort Benning. Talk was talk, but was it ever actually going to happen? He was beginning to wonder. It just wasn't as safe here anymore. If he had to, he'd pack his family up and they'd leave by themselves. Sarah'd been holding out hope for Fort Benning for weeks now, and it wasn't as though Merle was desperate to stick around.

Daryl wiped sweat from his forehead and kept low, creeping back onto the forest floor. Where did that thing go? It was too close. Way too close. Just how come he hadn't seen Merle or Jim or God forbid Shane out here, making sure the area was clear of walkers? He whipped his head back momentarily to see if he could spot who was on top of the RV.

No man in the camp, not even the Chinaman, was that slender, nor did any of the men have long hair. Had to have been his woman, and that made him a tad bit uncomfortable for some reason. What was she doing up there? All the able-bodied men sure as shit weren't out here doing anything useful. Grunting softly, Daryl turned his awareness back to the woods. It couldn't have gotten too far, and he could only pray it hadn't spotted or scented live flesh not far away. He was going to have to have a talk with Merle about letting Sarah loose with his rifle again.

Daryl listened carefully as he walked in short increments. Most of his bolts were still in that buck. If it was slow enough, he'd use his knife. He needed to be more careful with his ammo. He could craft new bolts out of hardwood limbs, sure, but nothing would beat the carbons. He was pretty sure this last set he was down to was a gift from Sarah for something or another.

The tracks were there, but the creature appeared to have vanished in thin air. Daryl stared down at the last clear marks in the damp grass and let out a sigh. This wasn't ignorable. He was going to have to go back to camp and hope he could find men that were willing to accompany himself and Merle out here in the thick to take control of this problem before someone was eaten or more walkers wandered their way. The going-on thirty-three year old pulled one of his precious bolts from the trunk of a tree, vigilantly determining the quickest path back to camp.

Then he heard it. Someone calling out for Mom. Screaming.

_Shit_.

Thankfully there weren't any gunshots and Sarah hadn't lost her fucking mind. If she could just stay on top of the RV, he'd be there to help and she wouldn't have to fire, drawing God knew how many out of their little hidey-holes. She wouldn't. He knew she had more sense than that.

"You stay there," Shane shouted up to Sarah, carrying his weapon alongside the other men as they ran to where the children could be heard crying for help. The woman stood shaking with the rifle raised to her eye and tried to talk herself down. _It's okay, _she told herself, _the guys have got this under control. They have weapons and they've got this under control. _The noises stopped. She heard men talking. Amy and Andrea came walking back quickly.

"Merle!"

Sarah's heart either stopped or went into overdrive, she couldn't tell. It'd been two days since she'd heard that voice, and then she could see him, her surprisingly relatively clean man toting a string of squirrels and his crossbow. "Merle! Getcha ugly ass out here, I got us some squirrel. Time for a stew."

Daryl looked up where his wife stood and almost barked at her to come down before he noticed that she wasn't holding Merle's gun. That rifle belonged to Dale.

"Daryl, hold up. I gotta talk to you a minute," Shane said, walking up behind the man. Daryl turned, sneering.

"'Bout what?"

"'Bout Merle," Shane said, walking ahead and out of the way. He locked eyes briefly with Sarah. "There was a, uh. . .problem in Atlanta yesterday afternoon."

Daryl's nostrils flared. "He dead?"

Rick bit his tongue a while longer while he watched the hostile man and his partner in the force talk. Daryl had come out of the woods needlessly violent and aggressive. This was not going to go over well, and it was not for Shane to take this man's anger.

"There's no easy way to put this, so I'll just come out and say it," Rick said, stepping up.

"Hell're you?" Daryl asked.

"Rick Grimes."

Daryl was sneering again, his heart pounding in his chest. "Rick Grimes? Got somethin' you wanna say to me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him to a roof hooked to a piece of metal," Rick continued.

Oh, no. Sarah moved closer to the ladder. She knew that expression on Daryl's face. That was the 'time for murder' and/or 'Sarah threw away the Bass Pro catalog' face. Suddenly the squirrels Daryl held were thrust at Rick, Shane tackled her husband, a knife was pulled, and she couldn't even keep track of what was happening. Her blood boiled at the way her husband was being handled, regardless of how he reacted to being told his brother was gone.

"—I put a padlock on the door, so the geeks couldn't get him—"

Sarah's eyes widened. She had heard nothing of this before.

"T' hell with all y'all!" Daryl shouted, his voice rough with grief. His son and now his goddamn shithead brother. Son of a bitch. "Just tell me where he's at, so's I can get him."

"He'll show you," Sarah heard Lori say under the awning. "Isn't that right?"

Sarah looked to Rick, who looked at no one. "I'm goin' back."

Daryl stalked around the other campers like a cornered wild animal, snarling and letting loose the brunt of the anger he built up over the course of two days with all their terrible events in a string of loathsome words he couldn't hear himself saying. At the end of it, his eyes fell on Sarah again.

"You!" he pointed to Shane. "You ever put _my woman_ on top of that RV to protect yer sorry ass again, I'm gonna shove an arrow straight up yer ass. Horizontally! Woman, get down from there right fuckin' now. Get on."

Sarah scrambled down the aluminum ladder quickly and passed off Dale's rifle to the nearest set of hands. She wasn't supposed to handle just anybody's gun. Before another word could be said, Daryl nodded angrily at Rick and pulled Sarah by the arm to their side of camp.

"You wearin' my vest again?" Daryl shouted once inside their tent. It looked. . .different inside.

"I-I-I, uh. . ." Sarah held up her hands as she stammered and Daryl scowled again.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like ya looked at Marcus Jasper, woman."

"I don't know what you want me to do," Sarah whispered, her throat feeling thick as oatmeal. She used the back of her hand to quickly wipe away a few tears before they could fall and watched Daryl's back as he paced around the tent. His entire body seemed tense and coiled with his ire, and then it all visibly left as he released a long breath.

"Didn't mean to scare ya," he said, turning back toward her now. "It's just. . ."

"I know, baby," Sarah whispered, getting herself within a few feet now. "I understand. You did what I _wanted_ to do."

"They told ya the same thing?" Daryl asked.

"Kinda. I was never once told that T-Dog chained the door to the roof shut. Probably so they wouldn't be obligated to go after him without _you_. Rick seemed surprised as shit to hear about a Daryl Dixon last night, I don't even think they fucking mentioned you to him before."

Daryl scoffed at no one. "Guess 'at figures."

He felt Sarah's hand on his ribcage and looked at her now.

"I'm _so_ glad to see you're back," she whispered weepily. "Sorry. Progesterone."

Daryl shook his head. "It don't bother me none. I mean. . .you care about me and I lit out fer two days. You musta worried."

"I don't just care, Daryl, I _love_ you. Listen, I know now's not really the time, but I just want to say how sorry I am and I wish I coulda done things different and I just want you to know that I want more than anything to make this family and give you what you deserve as a man—"

"Sounds like you been talkin' to Merle."

"Kinda, yeah, he said those things to me, but it's what I _want_. I'm not gonna be your bitch or anything like he wants me to be, but I'm gonna be a good wife and I'm gonna be a good mother."

Daryl swallowed, not letting her eyes leave his. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely. That's why you and me gotta get safe enough so we can _do _this. When I lost our son, all I wanted was to get pregnant again. I'm being serious right now, Daryl, I wouldn't blow smoke up your ass about something like this. I never did before. I _want_ your babies. Plural, _babies_. But we owe it to them to get set up someplace we know for _sure_ is safe," Sarah reasoned, her hands motioning along with her speech.

"Yeah, I know," Daryl nodded, looking at the floor now. "I's just mad and. . .shocked. I know we can't just do it all now. I want _you_ safe, first. S'why we're leavin' soon as I bring Merle back."

"We are?" Sarah asked, biting her lip.

"It ain't safe no more. Can't tell ya how many walkers I killed out there, and then I killed that one eatin' on my deer right by camp." Daryl shook his head again. "These people ain't like us, Sarah Claire. Might be like you, but they ain't like _us_, and they ain't ever gonna look at you right for bein' with me and takin' care of Merle."

"Well. . .whatever you think is best is what we're going to do, of course." Sarah leaned against him, lips tasting the salt of his throat. "I just wonder if we should at least try to get them to come with us? We may not all get along, but we do benefit from them and they definitely wouldn't be the same without us. Not a lot of them actually even knows how to hunt, and they only have guns, which would attract walkers right to them. Is it right to leave 'em all by themselves? They got women and children to protect, Daryl."

Daryl closed his eyes and nodded into her scalp. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Merle ain't gonna wanna see any of them again. If ya can talk him into it and talk them into goin'. . .it ain't right to leave 'em, yer right. Even if they done what they done. I'll warn 'em, at the least."

Sure now that she wasn't going to get shoved away, Sarah wrapped both arms around his waist. "You're a good man, Daryl. One day they're all going to realize that and how much you do for them, but you know I always have and always appreciate what you do. You give me the strength to fight my days."

"You ain't got to fight shit, woman."

"I know, but because of you, I _can_."

Daryl closed his eyes. "You know part 'a bein' a good wife means you ain't ever gonna lie to me or keep stuff from me again, don'tcha?"

"I'm really ashamed of myself," Sarah nodded. "I can't believe I ever did it. I'll let you do whatever unspeakable things you want to me, if it'll make you feel better. I don't really have any other bartering tools at the moment."

"Woman, you _like_ unspeakable things."

"I haven't had sex in two days, Daryl. _Days_."

"You know, sometimes I miss it when you were in Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings."

"That's not funny, you asshole. Those things weren't for me."

"Only 'cause ya can't admit ya got a problem."

"Oh, I know I have a problem! That's why I went in the first place – just shut the fuck up and take your pants off, this is a good luck fuck."

Snickering, Daryl shoved her backward onto the mattress. "You better cum fast, girl. I gotta make it to Atlanta."

Sarah smiled wildly, arms reaching above her head as if for the headboard at their old home as her shorts were jerked down her thighs. "You know I'm always good for you, baby."

They were hands and hips again, shoulders and lips. Sarah almost wished she _could _attend those meetings again, knowing this should mean more. Having her husband touching and kissing and simply _breathing _above her after not even being certain he was alive for a while should mean so much more than the physical relief of what they were engaged in.

* * *

Daryl took hold of Sarah's chin before he loaded himself into the cube van. "Listen here, girl. I don't care if you gotta shove yerself directly up Captain Dickhead's ass. Ya don't go _anywhere _alone. I done tried to tell 'im what I saw out there, just nobody wants to take it serious. But you will, won'tcha?"

Sarah nodded, feeling much more solemn than she had in the tent. It was safe in there, and he was with her. Now Daryl was going to be leaving again, going into much more danger. It was worth it if Merle's life could be saved and everyone came back alive themselves. . .she just couldn't kid herself into believing Merle's life was as valuable to her as Daryl's anymore. What if Daryl died? What if they all died and never came back? Guilt strained her chest, but she just wasn't sure she was willing to risk it, even if there was absolutely no stopping Daryl from going, and she'd never voice her doubts.

"You listenin' to me?" Daryl insisted, shaking her just slightly. "Where's the knife I give ya?"

"I have two," Sarah said. "My Daryl knife and Merle's Arkansas Toothpick I got him. Until he comes back. I got my gun, too, and I got some kind of little axe Merle gave me still in my car."

"Get it out."

Sarah nodded. "What about you? Do you have enough bolts? Don't you think you should take my gun?"

"Ain't no way I'm disarming my woman," Daryl scowled, holding his crossbow tight. "You gotta be able to protect yerself, but you don't shoot anythin' unless you have to. _Have to._ Getcher little axe outta yer car. I'll feel better knowin' yer only option ain't gunshots or a knife. What is that 'Pick, twenty inches?"

"It's only eighteen. It's a weird measurement."

"Yeah, a little. The axe is longer. That tomahawk'll keep yer arm away from their mouths. Don't lemme spook ya too bad, now, it's only been a few I seen, but I want ya to be cautious."

Sarah nodded. "I'll be really careful, Daryl, don't worry. I'm more worried about you than me. I'm just staying here at camp with a whole bunch of other people where we're relatively safe. You're going out to the city where there are thousands of them."

"You ain't gotta worry about me _none_," Daryl promised strongly. "I take care of things and you got nothing to worry about. I'm gonna bring Merle back and we're all gonna be fine."

"Daryl, I don't know what I would do without you."

"Well, you ain't even gotta wonder about it. I always been here, ain't I? I'm gonna go now, ass face. Somebody's gotta round these dick shits up."

Sarah smiled at the backward-ass term of endearment and giggled softly. "Bring back a tube of Colour Riche 417 for me."

"Peach Fuzz. Much as I seen that shit, I'd know it from fifty paces," Daryl grumbled, turning for the truck. "How many tubes of lipstick can ya fuckin' own, woman? Jesus."

"It's never enough," Sarah laughed. "I love you, Daryl. Be careful. Don't be a hero."

Daryl's eyebrows quirked and he took off for the truck, completely unable to stay in her presence a second longer. God knew they weren't the most physically affectionate couple in the world, and they for damn sure didn't talk about feelings all that often, because they were supposed to just _know_. He had his own way of showing Sarah that he loved her and she had her own way of showing him. It was understood. It was perfect. It was an unusual occasion for her to directly say that she loved him, let alone twice in one day. Was she really all that worried, or was there something else going on?

Rick put his hand on Sarah's shoulder, making her gasp. He smiled apologetically when she looked at him. "Me and your man are gonna bring him back. We'll make things right, and we're going to come back with more weapons to protect camp with. We will all be looking after one another and no one will be left behind. That is my promise to you, Mrs. Dixon."

"I know you guys will bring him back," Sarah nodded, pursing her lips momentarily. "I know in my heart he's still alive out there. Maybe that's why. . .you know. It never really sank in that he was dead when I thought he was."

"I admire your faith," Rick told her. They both jumped when the horn on the truck sounded twice.

"C'mon! S'go!" Daryl shouted.

"I'm gonna go say bye to my family," Rick said, patting her shoulder. "Better look out for Lori and Carl for me, Mrs. Dixon. Anybody that could survive those Dixon brothers gotta be pretty handy to have around."

Sarah let out a scoffing laugh. "You have no idea."

Shane's boots crunched against the gravelly dirt leading him to stand by her side. "I'm sorry that you heard that earlier."

"And you're not sorry at all for what you said," Sarah said, waving goodbye to Rick as the back of the cube van closed.

"No, I'm not sorry at all about what I said because I believe it," Shane countered. "I don't have any kind of history with Merle, I don't particularly value his life, although I do respect your affection for him. But that affection is not sufficient, in my opinion, to risk the lives of four of our strongest men."

"He was left to die and that is wrong, regardless of how _you_ feel about Merle. You said his life had no value, basically, and you said it _right next _to Daryl, like he doesn't matter, like he wasn't even _there_," Sarah glared at him, finger at his chest. "When you start losing your respect for life, that's when you get no better than the things that try to _eat_ us."

"Hey, I have much respect for life, I respect the lives of everyone here," Shane leaned close to her, brows slanted. "I bust my ass to keep you safe, lady!"

"Why isn't his life valuable?" Sarah demanded, voice cracking as her eyes filled with tears. "Why? Why do you ignore my husband and say such cruel things about his brother right in front of him? What is _wrong_ with you? You know I love Merle, why would you say things like that in front of me?"

"Sarah, it isn't that his life isn't valuable, he's a human being, I get that, it's that his life isn't worth _four men_. _Your_ man. He's out there right now, can ya honestly tell me you'd rather have your brother-in-law over your husband? After everything he's done to ya?"

"No! You don't get to use what he's done to me as an excuse. He didn't do anything to you. I love him in spite of everything he's done, and that's _my_ cross to bear, you don't get to use it!" Sarah shouted, taking in a shuddering breath afterward. The back of her hand wiped the water from her eye. "One day you'll know what it's like to love somebody more than you love yourself, and on that day you'll at least learn a bit of fucking sensitivity when you're talking about the value of a man's _life._"

Shane's lips pressed into a thin line. "I said I was sorry, Sarah."

"Fuck your apologies!" Sarah cried, motioning as if to shove them away. "You meant what you said. You're a fucking dick, Shane."

"Was I a dick when I letcha in the other night and you were cryin'?" he asked, following after her when she stomped away from him. "When I letcha stay there two nights in a row? When I held you?"

"Oh, don't say it like that!" Sarah sneered, walking backward away from the RV. "Stop trying to make it seem like you're some kind of white knight."

"What's Daryl? The Camo Knight?"

Sarah stopped in her tracks. "What are you even talking about?"

"I don't _know_, I don't want you to fuckin' yell at me anymore, okay?" Shane exclaimed, hand in his hair. "Jesus, just calm down. You and Daryl and Rick got yer way, they went after Merle. Sorry I thought it was a stupid idea to risk more lives."

"What if it was T-Dog or Glenn that got stranded and left behind?"

"I can honestly say I'd still think it was a bad idea."

"Andrea?"

"I'd have to go after her."

"Lori?"

"I'd go after her."

"Me?"

"Wild horses couldn't stop me, Sarah Claire. Ladies are different. I mean it," Shane said, palms out in front of himself. "Listen, we need to be back at camp right now. We've ventured off a little too far. I get you're mad at me, and ya don't have to talk to me again, but we need to go back. Okay?"

Sarah considered him for a while, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "You're a jackass."

"I do what I think I have to and what I think is best for the safety of all considered. If that a jackass makes, I'll embrace it," Shane said, hand on his belt.

"Let me have one free hit."

Shane blinked. "What?"

"Merle lets me hit 'im when he pisses me off real bad. One shot," Sarah explained. "What, are you scared?"

"I mean. . .if you really think it'll make you feel better," Shane half-laughed. He was by no means swayed to the side or taken off his feet when the woman punched him, but he did look a little flabbergasted.

"Merle Dixon taught me how to do that," Sarah said, shaking her stinging hand. "Let's go back, then."


	13. Chapter 13

_The woman giggled quietly, leaning forward for him to unhook her bra._

"_You have a good day, baby?" she whispered against his bare shoulder, kissing across the warm skin to his neck.__ He wasn't scoffing at the pet name anymore, she noticed. About time. It'd been a good few weeks now. She shivered and arched into him when she felt those deft, rough hands almost completely spanning her back._

"_Yeah, 'cept fer Simmons ridin' my ass about those damn supply units." Daryl held onto her arms once the damnable piece o__f clothing fell from her body and pulled her the rest of the way against him. She rested her knees against the headboard he supported himself on and the indirect contact of his erection against the juncture of her thighs made the woman gasp in that way of hers. _

_The hunger of it, the timbre denoting her excitement, made Daryl feel almost awkward. More awkward than usual, he supposed. No woman he'd ever been with before had ever made a sound like that, especially not before he was even inside of them. Merle had said some things about her once he'd found out that Daryl wasn't sure he was comfortable with, either, but he kept telling himself they couldn't be true. He might not have liked her at first, but Sarah was pretty good by him now. She had that way of sinking her goddamn claws in. _

_She was moving against him now in that experienced manner, but it seemed to him more instinctual than anything. Maybe that was why he'd come to like her so much lately. She was more animal than anything, this wild thing he could hold onto for a while to keep him ironically connected to humanity. Sometimes he honestly had no idea what to even do with her._

_Luckily, she had what he lacked in the ability to read people. She apparently had a line of men coming in and out of her door, according to Merle. He pushed that thought from his mind quickly. As long as she was here, she was his, and it was that single-minded thought of possession that urged him into action._

"_You want it like this?" he asked, pushing her down on her stomach._

_Sarah nodded quickly, writhing against his blankets. __"Ohh, yeah. . ."_

_She raised her hips just enough for him to unzip her jeans and pull them down; the rush of cool air on her heated skin was almost too much. Daryl looked down at her__,__ almost bewildered. Her hands were timorous where she grasped for purchase on the sheets and her back was taut as a bow. She just couldn't _do _things like this. He didn't know this was real._

_Daryl was curious all of a sudden as he knelt over the blonde woman, running a tense hand lightly down her spine. He could practically see the sparks, watching her muscles spasm just slightly. He smirked, lip trapped between his teeth. He didn't know that he'd ever had a woman so responsive to him before, and she didn't even fucking like him._

"Am I interrupting something?"

Sarah dropped her photo album in her lap and looked up at the woman in the entrance of her tent. "Huh? What? I'm sorry, what was that Andrea?"

"Are you all right?" Andrea asked, taking a tentative step forward. She didn't know if she was comfortable being in the tent Sarah shared with Dixon or not, but she had something of a mission.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Sarah faked a smile, glancing back at her photos. Andrea couldn't help but look.

"Oh wow, Merle looks so young there."

Sarah's smile was genuine now. "Hey, you're right. He kind of always looks like that to me."

"Wait, what is he _doing_?" Andrea asked, stepping closer. Sarah laughed softly and chewed the inside of her cheek.

"This particular night was when I met Daryl. Our friend Collins took the photo," Sarah explained, pointing at her then-blonde head behind Merle's grinning visage. "He's holding my shirt up and flashing Daryl. If you look real close, you can see the utter shock and confusion on Daryl's face. We were all shitfaced. Merle credits this event with Daryl and I getting together, but that didn't happen for months. We hated each other for a _while_."

"That's awful!" Andrea said before she could stop herself.

Sarah laughed again. "I wasn't happy about it, but it's been so long that now it's just an interesting story."

"I guess so," Andrea conceded with a chuckle. "I certainly wouldn't put it past him. No offense, of course."

"None taken. I didn't know not to put it past him! I'd only known him for like a week, I think. It wasn't long at all. The next day, I was _furious_. I really thought Daryl was so weird and mean."

"What'd he do?" the blonde asked, sitting on the little stool Sarah and Daryl kept.

Sarah tilted her head, totally unamused expression on her face now. "Basically, he made fun of my big butt. It was his birthday party, see, at the bar, Merle kinda dragged him there without telling him about it, and until we managed to get him good and drunk, he just kinda snarled and glowered at everyone for taking him out of his lair."

Andrea's laughter picked up again. "What do you mean?"

"Aw shee-it, you've met Daryl. You know how he is. It used to be way, way worse. He never really left his land unless it was to hunt somewhere else or go to work. Run errands, I guess. Anyway, Daryl got _far_ more talkative when he was drunk, but he was such an asshole. And not a good-natured asshole like Merle usually is. See, Merle doesn't really mean a lot of what he says. Like when he teases you. He's just such a shit-stirrer. He loves to antagonize people. Anyway, Daryl, whom I had never met before in my whole life, who had not said a single word to me up until this point, walks up to where I'm standin' talkin' to Merle, slaps me on my rear end, and he says 'Dayum, girl, ya got an ass like a big ol' Mack truck. BOOM! G'bye, Honda Accord.'"

Andrea bent over her lap, sound not even leaving her mouth any longer.

Sarah chortled, shaking her head. "Dumb sumbitch. I was _so_ offended, and Merle starts calling Collins over and he says to him 'Watch 'is shit.' He grabbed me up so I couldn't move, my back to the camera, mind, and he pulled my shirt up to my fuckin' chin and was like 'There ya go, Daryl! First set of titties you seen all year!'"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Andrea apologized breathlessly.

"I'm just surprised Merle hadn't told everyone about that yet," Sarah said, shrugging. "He's a big storyteller. Especially if it's embarrassing for me or Daryl."

"Yeah, we didn't talk much," Andrea gave her a friendly roll of the eyes. "I've kinda have been meaning to tell you I'm sorry that things went the way they did. Merle was far from my favorite person in the world, and Rick did what he had to on the roof yesterday, but I know you feel for him like you would a brother, and I know how I would feel if something like that ever happened to A-Amy. . ."

With the way Andrea's voice quavered, Sarah sensed the sincerity of her words. She reached for the woman's hand.

"Hey, I. . .I mean. . .I don't know. It's a messed up situation all 'round. I can't even begin to make heads or tails of it in my mind, so I'm just going with the policy of letting well enough alone since he'll be back soon. This is something I'm going to be hearing about for a long time. We all will. So why not just let sleeping dogs lie where they do for now?"

Andrea nodded, giving her compatriot a small smile. She'd ask later. "So, I gathered up the laundry you left out yesterday so it wouldn't mold or get carried off somewhere. Us grunt-work ladies were thinkin' about heading down to the quarry since it's relatively nice out right now. Care to join us?"

Sarah grinned. She'd never been invited to laundry by anyone but Carol before. She knew she carried the stigma of being Ye Olde Camp Sex Addict, along with the stigma of being a Dixon, along with the stigma of her admittedly not overly-winning personality, and it meant a lot to finally be gaining general acceptance. Hopefully fracturing from the group wouldn't be totally necessary, hopefully she'd be able to talk some reason and sense into Merle. . .what was done to him was wrong, but these people were basically good, and there was safety in numbers.

"Sure! I'm not supposed to be alone right now, anyway. Bein' kinda bad. Let me follow you to where our unmentionables are and we can get to work."

Andrea hooked arms with what had to be one of the most patient women she knew and guided her to the RV to rally the troops and collect what they needed. Sarah turned this way in that, still attached to Andrea, looking for Carol.

"Hey Carol," she called when she spotted her friend. "Gonna join us?"

* * *

"Shouldn't be takin' this out on the boy, Lori," Shane said, climbing out of the water. The mother's eyes were fixed on her child's retreating form. She could hear conversation on down the way. As long as Carl was within someone's sights.

"I don't know what you're even talking about, Shane," Lori turned on her heels.

Shane sighed. "Hold up a damn minute, now, I'm soppin' wet here. You ain't barely talked to me since this all happened, how'm I supposed to _fix_ anything?"

"Uh-uh. You've long lost the ability to charm me like you do that poor little red-headed girl you got wrapped around your little finger."

"Little finger, my ass!" Shane cried, wet feet squishing as he walked after her. "That 'poor redhead' clocked me right across the jaw earlier! You see this?"

"I don't care what you have to say, I don't care what excuses you have regarding Rick or Dixon," Lori said, holding a hand up as she closed her eyes. "This conversation is finished. _All_ conversations are finished. You are not to approach me, my son, or any member of my family again, do you hear me? My family is off-limits to you now. You're a sick man and I have regretted what we did _every single day_."

"It's not what you think," Shane voiced desperately. "I did not know he was even alive, I swear!"

"You _told me my husband was dead__._ What are you gonna do now, huh Shane? Try and convince Sarah that Daryl isn't coming back so you can sleep with her, too, if you haven't already? Do you have a thing for married women? Who's next after you ruin Dixon's life? Carol? You're runnin' out of targets here, you revolting son of a bitch."

Lori's boots crunched against the loose gravel, carrying her away from him quickly. Shane could only stand and watch after her.

"Lori!" he called, but no reply was forthcoming.

* * *

"_I_ miss Netflix, my solar nails, my Macbook Pro. . ." Sarah said, shoving another clean pair of underwear in the bottom of her basket.

". . .I miss my vibrator," Andrea admitted nonchalantly.

"Oh God, me too," Sarah chimed, nodding profusely. The other women looked at her incredulously, some laughing at the notion. "Ladies, the poor man has to _sleep_ sometimes."

"Me too," Carol giggled, causing a second peal of laughter to ripple through the rock walls.

"Hell's goin' on over here?"

Sarah frowned, her arms lowering.

"Oughtta focus on yer work, ladies," Ed said, lighting another cigarette for himself. "Ain't no time for cacklin' and gigglin' like a regular group of idiots."

The two battered women were the only two that stood still, unable to move while the others argued and provoked Ed. Sarah and Carol knew better than to poke at the angry beast. They both knew well how bad it could be when someone tried to interfere, even if their intentions were the very best.

The difference between the battered women, though, was that Sarah had long had enough of this kind of shit. It was almost ten years ago that she'd decided no man would ever lay a hand on her again or ever again be put down the way Ed tried to push every single woman in camp, and no one ever did anything about it. Just like no one ever did anything about Marcus. Hot tears collected in the ducts of her eyes as she stood there just behind the group of women shouting with and at Ed. She watched the disgusting, violent man turn an ugly shade of maroon. Marcus maroon. That was the exact shade of fear in her heart, of shame in hiding her bruises with yellow concealer and thick foundation, of panicking when dinner would not be ready quite on time. The redhead did not even feel her hand as it sealed around her gun, but she was ignited when Ed's hand stretched out and slapped her dear, meek friend across her delicate features. With a click the safety was disabled, but before she could so much as raise the pistol, Shane appeared out of nowhere and tackled the belligerent to the rocky ground.

"You think it's okay to put yer hands on a woman?" the former sheriff demanded, pummeling Ed's face with his fists. The other women screamed, but Sarah remained glued in her place, simply watching. It was just like the night Merle showed up and saved her life, only Ed wasn't fighting back. Ed wasn't strong enough to really fight a man, not one like Shane. Ed was just the weak type of shit that would beat a kind, loving, silently strong woman like Carol.

"You think it's okay to talk to these ladies like shit?" Shane roared. The thrashing just kept right on. Sarah put her gun in her waistband as an afterthought, unable to take her eyes away from the sprays of blood and the sight of Shane turning Ed's face into something barely recognizable.

"Shane, please! Oh God, no!" Carol cried, tears running down her face.

"I'll beat ya to death, Ed, I swear I will," Shane hissed, standing. He kicked the bloody heap on the ground once or twice in the gut. "Better not be a next time, Ed. I will beat you _to death._"

Sarah's belly churned with rage at the way Carol fretted and wept for her abusive shit of a husband, but Shane had gone, and she couldn't be here any longer. Panting already, she ran for him.

"Shane!" she called, crossing an arm over her chest to keep herself decent. He turned around just at the edge of the quarry. "Shane, wait up!"

"What, you want another free hit? I think I'm all out today," Shane said with a weighty voice, flexing his bruised and bloodied knuckles. Sarah held her palm against the man's cheek.

"What you did was good. That was the right thing to do, even if they don't get it. Those other girls, they don't know what it's like. And Carol, she doesn't get it yet. She will, though. And I do. I know what you did was right. _Thank you_. You're a hero."

Shane was utterly dumbstruck when Sarah wrapped her little arms around his neck and held herself against him. He tapped her back a few times, then took to rubbing it soothingly. "See what I mean? Ya try and do the right thing and nobody quite reacts how ya want."

"You did do the right thing," Sarah repeated, her words muffled against his shoulder.

"He hit Carol and upset you, and I just couldn't take that any longer," Shane lied. That ass beating had little to do with what happened at the quarry. "It's time we started taking better care of you ladies. If someone else ain't gonna be man enough to do it, I am."

"He better never touch her again, or I'll kill him myself," Sarah seethed, blinking rapidly over Shane's shoulder. "I had my gun in my hand and I didn't even know it. If you hadn't stopped him, he never would have. He would just keep on being cruel to poor, poor Carol. And he just got bolder and bolder with it, you know? He took her strength away from her."

"That what happened to you?" Shane asked softly. It was nice to be this close to a lady that wasn't screaming at him or bawling her eyes out. Sarah was nice, so long as the Dixons weren't involved. His hand moved up to stroke her upper back.

"I took it back," Sarah gritted out. "I took it back and Marcus nor Ed nor any man can ever have it again. It's _mine_."

"Merle?"

"He never wanted it. God knows he may not seem like it, but that man does respect me at least a bit or he never would've stayed in my life."

"I know you ain't worried about it with Daryl."

"Daryl is like a whole 'nother body of strength. When I'm weakened, there he is to hold me up. He is perfect."

Shane blinked, staring ahead at the dirt path. "You worried about me, any?"

"I think you're good," Sarah whispered finally. "Or you mean to be."

"Are ya _worried_?" Shane insisted.

"I'm not sure if I should be, but I'm not," Sarah gently admitted.

Shane nodded. "I wouldn't do nothin' I didn't think was right, Miss Sarah."

"It's your version of wrong and right that scares me sometimes."

"I took care of Ed, didn't I?"

Sarah let go of him then and stepped back. "That was right of you."

"Yeah," Shane nodded, carefully watching her body language.

"I'm not supposed to be alone," Sarah said after a while. "Daryl told me to be really careful. He said something like 'Stay up Captain Dickhead's asshole if you have to.' You're Captain Dickhead."

"I gathered that," Shane smiled. "I was thinkin' about takin' watch a while, if you wanna keep me company."

"I need to get my clothes and hang them up. Can you walk with me?" Sarah asked, jerking a thumb back in the direction of the bank.

"Those other ladies gone?" Shane peered around her and Sarah nodded. "Let's go, 'en."

Predictably, Shane carried her baskets for her back to camp.

"Hey Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"Who does _your _laundry?"

The sheriff laughed a few times, shuffling his feet through the dirt. "Well, I ain't got a good woman like Ed or Morales or Daryl."

"So that means. . ."

"I do some of it on my own, when I can, but I depend a lot on the kindness of Jacqui and Amy. Those girls are golden."

Sarah pinned up the last of Daryl's sleeveless shirts.

"Yeah, that's nice of them, since you're such a dick. How about that watch? Glenn gave me some Poptarts I'm willing to share."

"What flavor?" Shane asked, giving her a sidelong gaze.

Sarah smirked. "S'mores."

"Hot damn, girl, I'm in. Here, I'll walk ya to yer tent. Can't have Dixon's little princess walkin' off on her own, even for a minute," Shane teased, shoving her along.

"Oh, whatever!" Sarah scoffed, shoving him back. "He calls me 'stinky' and 'ass face' and 'rotten bitch'. Oh, and 'you old haint.'"

"What?" Shane asked dubiously, and Sarah laughed at the expression on his face.

"Wanna know a secret? He calls me 'baby', too. Mostly when we're alone. And he's always called me 'woman'. And 'girl'. For a while when we first got together, I called him 'booger'. We're a really mature, sophisticated couple." Sarah was beaming, and it was electric. Shane honestly thought he saw her glow.

And now she was bending over again, digging through the plastic sack Glenn had given her yesterday before anyone told her about Merle. "Found 'em."

Shane's eyes rose quickly. "Arright. I got water, you got snacks, we got guns. We'll sit up and watch for Rick and T-Dog and Glenn and Daryl to come back. Them girls caught us a mess 'a fish earlier and we're gonna eat good."

Sarah's smile took over her face. It was good to be able to pack away her worries for a while. The skyscrapers on the horizon, however, drew her mind to the situation yet again.

"Oh, merciful Mother of God," she whispered, closing her eyes. From on top of the RV, Shane reached down for her.

"Come on up, sunshine," he said carefully. "We'll split those Poptarts and have us a chat. Maybe we can swap stories again."

"Are you a praying man, Shane?" Sarah asked, tucking her knees beneath herself. Shane's eyes widened slightly.

"Not lately, no."

"Do you want to join me?"

Watching her carefully, Shane nodded. He'd never taken her to be the religious type, what with all the obvious alcohol abuse in her past, the blasphemies, not to mention the copious amounts of pre-marital sex. "I didn't think you even believed in God."

"I don't really know for sure what's out there," Sarah revealed carefully. "I turned away from the Church when I was young. But now. . .maybe it's stupid and simplistic of me, but I wonder about God and the walkers."

"So you pray?" Shane asked. She nodded.

"I pray every day. I have so many things to ask forgiveness for, and I figure if no one else forgives me, at least God will. But now I want to pray for them, out there."

The former police officer touched the woman's hair and watched as she pulled the Saint Christopher's medallion from underneath her shirt. She was an unusual person, which was for sure. Gentle, but able to raise a gun to a brute or raise her small fist to protect herself if needed. Smart, but capable of saying the most foolish things for the sake of a joke. He admired her belief in a time such as this. He admired her patience. The flat underside of the charm was pressed against her lips before she reached for his hand.

"Father God, forgive us of our sins and turn Your eyes on more deserving travelers. . ."

She was a woman who prayed and feared Almighty God. She was a woman with fresh whisker burn on her inner thighs.

". . .may Your angels be their companion as they seek to help a stranded man and gain extra protection for Your flock. . ."

Sarah Claire Moultrie _was _an angel.

". . .and clothe them in their invisible protection against attack and accident. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, amen."

Shane squeezed her hand. He had barely listened to the prayer and hadn't spiritually engaged in any way. Maybe, he thought. Just maybe. No, but maybe.

Lori was no longer even the slightest possibility. He had done his best, he felt, to respect her wishes that he leave her be, even though he never felt they made a mistake. He had done his best to make her see that it was okay, that she had a loving protector again. Lori was strong and brave. Lori was beautiful. Lori was intelligent, enchanting, witty, and kind. Lori did not love him, and he could barely stand the depth of his love for her. There was nothing he could ever hope to do about it, now.

Sarah was all of those things, too, though, and Sarah wasn't really married. Not really. There was a ring on her finger, but there was no paperwork. The only reason she'd even taken Daryl back was because he'd saved her life and she felt she had no other choices. It wasn't as though Dixon ever did anything to express his interest in having an intimate relationship with Sarah. He only seemed to benefit from her, then ignore her.

Shane mentally slapped himself. Where was all of this _coming_ from? It was sick. It was wrong. He _loved_ Lori, but Sarah was his friend. He couldn't really believe those things. . .could he?

"Here's your Poptart," Sarah said brightly, holding the breakfast pastry out to him.

No. No way, Shane thought as he accepted it and took a big bite. Not a snowball's chance in hell.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Oh god I'm so sorry for the wait! I got caught up in my _real life_ project - I do this professionally, y'know! ;) **

**Please enjoy and remember to leave me a review so I know how I'm doing! :)**

All Daryl could do was run. The cop handed him a gun once they reached the edge of the quarry camp that they would surely be abandoning soon. He would, at least. Him and his wife. There was no way he would allow Sarah to stay here any longer. He'd known. He should've gone with his instinct and done what any real man would do to protect his wife. In this chaos, in this confusion, he didn't even know if she was alive.

"Stay behind me!" Shane shouted, sweeping an arm to shove Sarah, Lori, and Carl in that direction. Sarah was frozen, knife in her hand. She didn't know what to do. She'd thought she'd know what she should do in the moment, always thought she'd be able to act, but she couldn't.

"Sarah!"

Her neck whipped in the direction of Daryl's voice.

"Baby! I'm over here!" she cried, hand cupped around her mouth to project the sound over the bullets.

Daryl shivered noticeably with relief. "Stay back!"

Sarah's ears were beginning to ring horribly with the so many gunshots ringing off the rock walls. It was the FEMA camp all over again. An ambush. People dying. People crying. People screaming. People being eaten alive.

"Look the fuck out!"

Sarah jumped, falling backward into the dust. Daryl smashed the butt of his gun against the walker's skull, sending its now-lifeless body to the ground beside her.

"Geddup," Daryl whispered harshly, his hand reaching out for her. She looked around them, finding that Shane had moved himself, Lori, and Carl away. He'd just left her there. They'd just left her.

Sarah stood behind Daryl, holding onto the back of his shirt and squinting her eyes shut until the noises all faded.

"Sarah? _Sarah!_" Daryl shouted, shaking her by her shoulders. The woman jumped back to awareness and it was almost daylight. Daryl was pulling at her clothes now. "You bit? You bit, woman?"

"No, n-no." Sarah shook her head tersely. "I'm fine. I'm alive."

Practically covered in dry, putrid blood, Daryl pressed their foreheads together. She suddenly realized they were sitting in the back of his truck.

"What happened?" Sarah whispered.

"Attacked by walkers. Lotsa folks died. I packed up our stuff already. We're goin'. Not just us. You been walkin' around lookin' half-dead for hours."

"You're okay too, aren't you?" Sarah asked, gripping his shirt again. He nodded.

"I'm good. As long as yer good, I'm good."

Sarah pulled herself fully against him. "I don't wanna be here anymore. I didn't know what to do. How can we live like this if there's nowhere safe to go to? Why are we trying?"

Daryl shook her angrily. "The fuck're you _talkin'_ about, woman? You cut 'at shit out right fuckin' now. I won't fuckin' hear it. You lost all yer faith in me already? I ain't ever leavin' ya alone again, I swear. Fuckin' cop just left ya standin' there alone. So fuckin' _pissed_. I ain't ever gonna let a thing happen to you. I didn't last night and I ain't ever. I done told ya a dozen times, I ain't gonna tell ya this shit again, hear?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sarah squeezed him. "Please don't go off again. Don't be mad. I'm sorry. That was just so scary. Nobody was even taking watch. We were having dinner, and. . ."

"Folks here are s' damn ignorant. Good Lord." Daryl shook his head, his hands tight around Sarah's.

"I know, baby. But hopefully this will wake them up. You're _so_ smart. Oh hey, where's Merle?"

Daryl waited a minute to say anything. He wasn't sure if she was mentally prepared to hear what wound up happening back in Atlanta. He'd barely been, and he'd been noticing a very definite change in Sarah. "Gone."

"Dead?" Sarah's voice had raised at least half an octave in pitch, thin and stinging with the effort to keep from crying. She could try all she wanted, but that was an impossible task. If Merle Dixon was gone, she told herself, so was she.

"No," Daryl shook his head. "He just lit out. He, uh. . .he cut off his hand. Cauterized the wound. Took off with that box truck. S'why we came back on foot. I don't know where he run off to."

"What do you mean? Why didn't he come _back_?"

Daryl closed his eyes, trying not to let this get to him. He'd known she would react this way and he'd been trying to prepare himself for it, but he still rolled his eyes. "I dunno. Couldn't tell ya. We looked, but he was gone."

"Why wouldn't he come back here? He knows I would've taken care of the wound—" A horrible thought struck Sarah. "Oh God, it's all my fault. We had a fight. He probably thinks nobody here cares about him anymore. I told him we hated him."

Daryl shook his head. "It ain't yer fault. Merle don't care who hates 'im. I don't know what's goin' on, like I said, but we can't stay. The cops are talkin' about what we oughtta do."

"We have to look for him—"

"Where?" Daryl snapped. "Ain't nowhere to look. No, there's everywhere to look, but we can't. Cain't look all the places for 'im. He don't want us anymore. All he had to do was wait. He didn't want us."

Sarah leaned her face down into her open palms, the blood on her fingers not even a thought. "How can you just give up?"

"Don't think for a second I wouldn't rather have 'im here, where I can look after him, but he fuckin' took off like he always does, not even thinkin' about _nobody_." Daryl's palm slapped down against the bed of the truck, the thunk echoing. "If he'd thought about you, or God forbid _me_, don'tcha think he'd be here? At least for what we could do for 'im? But he didn't. He ain't. And I ain't gonna letcha act foolish. I put it outta my mind and you will, too. I wanna get all this blood off you, now. I got you some clean clothes, I'ma take you down to the creek."

"Don't you have some for you?" Sarah's voice was weakened. She didn't have what it took to argue any further. This is what Daryl knew to do in hard situations. It was all he knew to do, and he was quite literally all she had anymore.

"Yeah, I got some. Come on and let's go, now." Daryl jumped down from the tailgate and turned back to her, his hand reaching out. Sarah gasped sharply when her feet hit the ground. Walking almost felt unnatural. "Get on, woman. We ain't got time to waste."

"I'm trying, Daryl." Sarah's legs felt shaky and she grew anxious about his apparent impatience. "Look, I'm _sorry_—"

"Just. Walk."

"Why are you so mad at me?"

Daryl gave her a shove. "Just get on. No more time for bein' silly."

Sarah was stopped abruptly in front of the rippling waters when Daryl started pulling her shorts down. He'd taken her clothes off hundreds of times before, but this time, Sarah didn't feel beautiful or sexy or wanted. Daryl looked just like he did when he field dressed a deer or changed the oil in his truck. She simply felt naked.

"Stop," she whispered, pushing his hands away.

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I don't want you touching me like that."

"Fuck're you talkin' about?"

Sarah put an arm around herself to cover her breasts and looked away, headed for the water.

"Sarah, don't you walk away from me," Daryl warned, his voice low.

"Didn't you want me to take a bath?" she asked. Daryl tossed his ruined shirt over his head and into the bushes, working his belt after.

"Woman, you turn around right now. Ain't gonna tell ya again."

Sarah stooped down in the lukewarm water to scoop up a handful of near-white sand. "Let's just get this over with. I'm really hungry. I wonder if we have enough for breakfast for everybody before we go."

The woman gasped when Daryl's rough hands jerked her against his own body.

"I ain't used to bein' scared if yer alive 'r not," he whispered loudly. Sarah wriggled, but his grasp was unrelenting. "Lookit me, look at my face! Even when I left ya alone, you were _safe_. I could get Merle to look out for ya when we lived in Colliers. At yer apartment before then, that girl was there. I worried when ya moved to Atlanta, but nothin' like this. Truth is, I always figured you'd come home 'ventually. Now I can't hardly go out huntin' without thinkin' 'Holy shit, my woman might be _dead_.' I go huntin' and my brother's gone fer good, and he's the toughest sumbitch I ever met in my life. I come back last night and those shits are munchin' on everyone and my wife is walkin' around in a daze. What'm I s'posed to do 'bout you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happ—"

"I ain't gonna let it happen," Daryl growled, shaking her again. "I ain't gonna letcha just check out on me 'cause ya can't handle it. _I_ handle it. All ya have to do is just stick by me an' ya can't even do that?"

"I'm _trying_—"

Daryl shook his head. "Naw, I ain't lettin' it happen. From now on, shit's gotta be different. You don't walk off on your own. Ever. You stay by _me_. Not _Shane_, not _Rick_, not that chink, ya stay at _my side_. You fuckin' understand me, woman?"

Sarah nodded rapidly, her eyes wide and watery. What was this? Daryl was hardly ever like this, especially not toward her.

"Yer _mine_. Yer all I got an' you are most certainly _mine_, lady. I ain't ever givin' you up. Never. I'd sooner die. I used t' think I could if I had to, like when ya moved to Atlanta, and call me just plain ol' fuckin' selfish but I _ain't_. I don't care if I gotta write Daryl fuckin' Dixon on yer arms every fuckin' day for the rest of our life. I don't care if I gotta fuck up any fella that looks yer way. _I_ know what's best for ya, _I _keep ya safe, _I _made sure ya didn't get et last night. You fuckin' hear me?" he shook her again.

"Y-yeah, I understand."

"Fuckin' _right_." Daryl hoisted the woman up and roughly pulled her leg around his waist. "'Member when I said I wasn't ever lettin' you forget it?"

"I didn't forget," the woman gasped.

"Put yer arms around me, Sarah Claire." Daryl's voice was low again, but softer. More husky than harsh, as it had been. Sarah swallowed deeply, but complied.

"Tell me whose you are," Daryl whispered, using the leverage of her supporting herself to guide himself inside her. Sarah's core abdominals shivered and she gasped again.

"Daryl fucking Dixon's." Sarah gripped him as hard as she could for fear of falling, but he didn't seem to mind or even notice at all.

"And ya like it that way."

"I love it."

To exemplify her sentiment, to soothe and assuage these strange, violent worries that'd overcome him, Sarah put a hand on his scalp. Her fingers caught and tugged at locks of dirty, dark blond hair. Daryl was making soft noises, huffing them against her earlobe. Sarah couldn't bring herself to make much more than him, no matter that it was starting to hurt a little.

"I love it so much," Sarah whispered, nuzzling scraggly facial hair. She kissed him right beside his nose. "I don't know what's got you so scared, but you're the _only_."

Just when it seemed he wasn't going to let up, Daryl was letting her stand again. He reached for more sand and scrubbed at her arm, not at all acknowledging what'd just happened between them. All Sarah wanted was to sit in the water and let it take the ache out of her, or at least scrub her own skin, but it seemed that an almost punitive romp wasn't enough to get whatever this was out of his system.

"That help?" he grunted finally.

"Help what?"

"Get yer ass back to normal."

Sarah frowned. "What, you think I need some dick to bring me to my senses? Fucking knuckle-dragging—"

"Shut yer mouth," Daryl warned. "Yer the one said you'd rather _take_ it than take a pill to make yerself feel better."

"I'm sick of you making me feel bad for liking what you do to me."

Daryl grunted again. "Didn't mean that. Quit puttin' words in my mouth, woman. I'll lay ya down in that grass over there and not give it to ya so easy."

Sarah's jaw dropped. "The way you're talking is _not_ funny!"

"Am I laughin'? I know it ain't funny."

"Why are you talking like this to me? I'm your wife."

"Yer my Sarah and I do what's right by you. You wanna tell me you wouldn't fuckin' _love_ it if I took ya over there, right underneath them trees, right now and I fucked ya 'til ya made that sound like ya can't breathe no more? Hell, Sarah Claire, seems like nailin' ya is the only way to get you back to yerself these days."

"No, I wouldn't love it! You _hurt_ me."

Daryl stopped scouring at his hair. "What?"

Sarah turned away again, lowering in the water. "That hurt a bit. You never hurt me before. I don't know what's goin' on with you."

"I didn't really do nothin' we ain't done before," Daryl said emptily. "Think it was how we did it?"

Sarah shrugged, frowning at the utter lack of apology in his words or tone.

"Still hurtin'?"

"No."

Daryl touched her underneath her chin. "Well. . .it ain't like ya weren't _ready_. . ."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I get turned on a lot when I'm with you no matter what you're doing."

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "So I noticed. I'm thinkin' it mighta been the angle."

"Oh, Jesus _Christ._" Sarah rinsed her hair one last time, hoping to God that got all the blood out of it. "Thanks for sounding so concerned about me."

"I am," Daryl snapped defensively. "Ya know I wouldn't hurt a woman."

"Unless they were me, right?"

"Hey." Daryl wrapped his arm around her waist. "Cut 'at shit out. 'M sorry. Didn't mean t' make it hurt. Y' know that."

Sarah blinked a few times and swallowed. "Just be careful. Especially when we're standing. It wasn't all that bad, but it scared me."

Daryl touched their foreheads together. "Don't ever feel like ya gotta be scared of me. I ain't no threat t' you. Yer the threat to me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You act like you ain't got nothin' to lose," Daryl whispered hoarsely. "All I got is wrapped up in one walkin', talkin' package. She got big hazel eyes and kinda reddish hair. Freckles all over. Real pretty, but real mean."

Sarah's hand landed on his chest with a wet smack. "I ain't mean!"

Daryl nodded. "Way meaner 'n Merle."

"How?"

"Talkin' about givin' up. Keepin' my baby from me all this time. Makin' me worry everyday about yer fool ass."

Sarah chewed on her lip a while, understanding better why he had acted so callous and rough. "Even with all this going on, if I could still be pregnant, I would. If I could make that choice and he be healthy, believe me, I'd take him over this. . .emptiness. I've felt empty for so long. Like my body's worthless now 'cause it can't even keep my babies alive."

Sarah hadn't revealed much about her feelings about their son's miscarriage, or there'd never been much time since she initially revealed the loss to him. Hearing his wife say that she felt literally empty after losing Daniel cut Daryl down to the quick.

"I mean, think about it, I'd be like six months pregnant by now if I hadn't lost him, but his little heart failed and it was genetic and there was _nothing_, _nothing _I could ever have done to fix it. He was never going to make it, Daryl, no matter what happened. Sometimes they die before they're born, like Daniel, but sometimes you get to see them and hold them and they still die anyway. It's horrible." Sarah walked to where their towels were located and covered herself up, bending over her knees. "M-Merle said I partied too much. Can you believe that? I hardly drank at all until after he died. You wondered why I drank so much?"

"Don't talk like that," Daryl said, drying quickly. "One day we're goin' into Atlanta and yer gonna show me where he's buried. Ya buried him, didn't ya?"

Sarah nodded. "Crestview."

After dressing himself, Daryl reached for her clothes. "Put yer arms over yer head, now. We gotta go 'fore we get left."

"No, not yet, please." Sarah held his arm. "Just one more?"

"Gol_ly_, woman." Daryl couldn't help but laugh to himself.

"You owe me one, just real fast—"

"Hey, nobody ever said I don't take care of my woman." Daryl laid a towel on the grass for her.

"I'm sorry."

"No sorries, woman. C'mere to me, now."

* * *

"Glenn, what is the hold up?" Shane enunciated each word as the Asian walked quickly back to the RV.

"Dude, you go interrupt them," Glenn said defensively. "I went twenty minutes ago and they were doing it then, too. Daryl's gonna fucking kill me if he finds out I saw Sarah naked. I'm not saying anything to them. I'd just as soon wait."

"We oughtta just leave 'em if this is how it's gonna be," Shane fumed, stalking toward the creek. Rick grabbed his elbow gently.

"Hey, I'm sure they'll be back shortly." Rick wrapped his arm around Shane's shoulder. "In the mean time, you and me need to discuss our next course of action a little more thoroughly."

"We ain't even havin' this talk until she gets back," Shane hollered. "You tell that girl we ain't goin' where I promised we would."

"Shane."

"You were just talking about leaving her behind," Glenn said incredulously.

Shane glared at the smaller man until he moved away from his line of sight, then looked back to Rick. "That's where Sarah's brother told us we oughtta go. We had a communiqué patch through the _night_ they got here and he said it was still safe there. There's protection, there's guns, there's lots of men, there's food, there's water, there's shelter. Our people got family there. _Fort Benning is where we need to go_."

"Shane, it's a hundred miles away for a long shot, who knows what could've happened there by now?" Lori asked, hands on her hips.

"It's a major military base, Lori, they got families there, you think they ain't protecting them?"

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, toweling her hair dry. Daryl stood directly beside her, hand holding her arm.

"Hey Sarah, look who just woke up from a coma and thinks he knows what's best for us in a world he ain't used to livin' in," Shane said, not taking his eyes off Rick.

Sarah looked to her husband, whose eyes narrowed.

"I don't think there's any reason to talk like that," the nurse said slowly.

"No, look at all this!" Shane took Sarah by the arm and indicated all the bloody patches of Earth where half-eaten bodies once rested. "I told 'im before he was leavin' us to a fate like this. You _heard_ me. Yer just about the only one with half a brain anymore, all these other jackasses think we oughtta waltz right back into Atlanta and find the CDC."

Sarah's eyes widened. "No. We can't do that."

"_Thank you_." Shane glared over at Rick. Furious, Daryl shoved the belligerent man's hand away from Sarah and pulled her back to himself.

"You don't fuckin' touch her, you don't try an' use her," the hunter seethed.

"Hey, hey, I think we should all calm down." Rick calmly made his way to stand between the couple and his best friend. Paying no mind to the corded arm around her, Sarah shook her head at Rick.

"Listen, we can't go there. They don't have any kind of answers for us and, even if they did, they wouldn't give them. I worked at a major teaching hospital in Atlanta and when the CDC came in, they didn't tell us anything. They didn't warn us, they just set up quarantine for phase one. When phase two came and the hospital got overrun, they left us all there. They left us to die."

"I don't think we have any other choices," Rick said slowly, blue eyes begging her to see his unspoken logic. No one needed to hear the truth that was so obvious to them all.

"We have somewhere to go! Listen, my brother is Command Sergeant Major Shawn Moultrie. The last I heard from him before the AT&T towers went down and I lost cellular on my iPhone was that they were closing off the inner base, taking the armories. That was the night I got here and I _told_ him I was with a large group of people. He said to bring 'em all, even Merle. I know the way to Columbus like the back of my hand, Rick, I know just how to get there, just the roads to take—"

"We simply don't have the resources, Mrs. Dixon." Rick reached out to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it when Daryl snarled. "I would truly love to reunite you with your kin and to get us all to such an apparently safe place, but—"

"So yer not just givin' up on my brother, yer givin' up on hers, too?" Daryl snapped. "We sit around here for months when we _had_ the supplies and coulda gone?"

"Then I wouldn't have found my husband," Lori breathed through clenched teeth.

"We had every reason to hold out—"

"—scavenge for supplies in the city—"

"—too big of a risk, we don't know what's there—"

"The military could protect us! You heard Dixon, she said they just left 'em there to die!"

"Please, could everybody just please calm down?" Rick seemed exhausted, but unwilling to raise his voice above the crowd.

Trembling in Daryl's hold, Sarah turned to face him. "I'm not giving up on Shawn! I don't care what I have to do, he's my only family!"

Daryl shushed her, growing more and more restless as he listened to the endless dissent from what was left of their group. So many missing faces, hardly any of them had he ever even known. He held Sarah tightly to himself, and he could not convince himself it was not partly for self-comfort. This was the only person he even knew. His brother was gone. He was responsible for Sarah, and he wasn't even sure what was best this time.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: But a Walking Shadow is one whole month old today :). Thanks to everyone who continues to read and show their support. This chapter is short, but very emotional for me to write, so I just had to finish it quickly. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Daryl couldn't take it anymore. Fifteen whole minutes in the truck and Sarah hadn't said a single word. Normally he couldn't pay her cash money to keep her mouth shut for even two minutes on a road trip in this vehicle. She liked to fill the silence and his radio had been broken long before she'd come around, so she'd talk. Talk and talk and talk.

Sarah also liked to sit close, usually. She liked touching him. She sure as shit wasn't having any of that sitting on the opposite side of the truck's cab, her cheek pressed against the window glass.

Daryl stole several sidelong glances her way, daring her to look back at him, just to respond some way, but she was blank and staring ahead. Just like all night at the camp when he and the rest of them men tried sweeping the place of walkers, and he'd been so desperately afraid because she kept drifting away from her newly-widowed friend.

"Goddamn it!" Daryl's fist came down on the hard steering wheel, causing Sarah to jump. "Just fuckin' yell at me! Cuss me out, tell me ya hate me, whatever! I'd rather fuckin' listen to the biggest screamin', cryin' fit than have ya over there poutin'."

"I'm not." Sarah scowled, turning further away from him. "Just leave me alone. You're the one that made me ride in here with you. I have a car, you know."

"Yeah, it's up _there_. I had to get someone else to drive it 'cause I can't trust ya ain't gonna detour to fuckin' Columbus." Daryl reached out for her arm. "Just c'mere. You'll feel better."

"I _should_ be in Columbus! If I chose to go without you—"

"Don't you talk like that!" Daryl's voice rose over hers as his heart took off in his ribcage. "If it's the last thing I ever do, woman, I swear I'll getcha to Fort Benning. Grimes is right, though. If the post is still up, the CDC'll be in contact with it and you'll be able to talk to Shawn in the mean time. We don't have all the shit we need to make it all the way down there, and we don't know what's in between. Yer mine and I gotta do what keeps you safest. And don't you _ever_ talk about runnin' off on me again, y'hear?"

"Shawn always hated you."

Daryl took his eyes off the road, glaring at her. "I know, right?"

"Just let me get in the RV or something! Jesus Christ." Sarah leaned down against her hand. Daryl's new attitude was exhausting. How many times had Rick pulled a gun on him to keep him from assaulting Shane or killing poor, bitten Jim? She might not have been much use in the hours before, but Daryl only seemed to make things worse. Everyone looked to her like there was a thing she could do about him.

"No, I don't _wantcha_ with them. I told ya already, I wantcha with me. Yer gonna realize I'm doin' the right thing." Daryl finally managed to land a hand on her thigh and squeezed. "Everything I do is for you. Us. Quit actin' like a fool. Yer friend up there don't even have a man no more."

"Don't you dare bring her into this!" Sarah shouted. "What do you know? Do you even know her name?"

Daryl shrugged. "Yer the one that talks to them, not me."

"You'll talk to the men."

"Some of 'em. What's yer point?"

Sarah jerked her leg away from him. "You've turned into a real sexist pig."

"I ain't." Daryl sneered at her. "Yer upset. You can't make right-minded choices right now. Sarah I know would've been mature and reasonable enough to know which way we shoulda gone. Woulda backed me up all the way, just like she always said she would. I do what I do 'cause I hafta for _you_. You do whatcha do fer you, too."

"You're calling me selfish?"

"Oh yeah. Nightmare of fuckin' selfish, spoiled brat."

"Who made me this way?" Sarah challenged. "If I'm so spoiled, whose fault is that?"

"Carter Moultrie!"

"Oh, please! Up until a week or so ago, I could do no wrong in your eyes. It's just now all 'a sudden you can't stand my ass."

"If I didn't love you, woman, I'd 'a left yer ass back there and let you do whatever you wanted," Daryl rumbled.

"Why couldn't you just say that?" Sarah asked, sad eyes finally on him.

"I did!" Daryl cried exasperatedly.

Sarah shook her head slowly. "Not that you love me."

"Well, why?" Daryl asked. His wife looked at him for a long time, only blinking.

"Just honk so someone can pull over and I'll ride with them."

Daryl sighed and rubbed his eye. "What now?"

"If you don't have a reason to tell me you love me, well, I don't want to be with you."

"We ain't ever been like that! We ain't. . .we don't talk like that!" Daryl was panicking now, gripping the steering wheel until his scarred knuckles turned a ghastly shade of white. "Shit, woman, I can try to be better, but ya can't just expect it to happen like _that_."

"That really hurt me. You askin' me why you'd tell me that."

"I just mean. . ."

"Yeah, I know." Sarah folded her knees against herself, eyes out the window again. "Just don't worry about it, Daryl. It'd take years even if you did try."

"Oh, shut the hell up. I ain't no monster. If I love a woman, I can say it." Daryl leaned heavily against the driver's side door. "I tell you that. You don't ever seem like ya need to hear it. Ya don't ever need me. Yer strong and sure. Or ya used to be."

"I know I'm not the same person you loved."

"Yer exactly what I love," Daryl snapped. "Don't tell me what I feel. I get to decide on that. Yer the only one that gets to hear, so ya better listen _good. _Only woman I ever did love. I never said I blamed ya. It's rough, I know. Hell, Sarah, when ya ever _listen_? I told ya I intend on gettin' you through it all. 'Is is the first time ya ever really needed me, ya think I'm just gonna walk away from that?"

"That's not true." Sarah shifted closer to his side of the cab. "I've needed you before. I always have."

Daryl shook his head. "Big difference between want and need. Wantin' ain't forever. Need like 'at don't go away."

Every now and then something Daryl said unintentionally devastated Sarah to the very core of her being, and this was one of those times. His voice carried not a hint of sadness because it wasn't something Daryl felt sad over. Daryl never seemed like he felt what sadness was for most people. He wasn't capable anymore. For him, it was a reality he'd accepted a long time ago, and that made Sarah sad. She knew he felt like he was expendable to her and everyone else that graced his presence, but the fact that he never questioned it, that he never once seemed to think it could be any better for him, made her hurt so badly for him.

"Oh baby, that's not true. Sometimes you say shit that I just. . ." Sarah trailed off, unbuckling her seatbelt to press against his side. He often overlooked the fact that she wanted to help, too, putting himself to the side for someone else as always. "I need you every single day and you were so right about everything. You were right about Merle, you were right about the CDC, you're right about talking to Shawn there and getting information we really need, everything. You're right, I'm just acting like a spoiled brat and I shouldn't put you through that. Course I need you. Where'd I be without you?"

"You ain't _wrong _to feel how you feel," Daryl said after a while. "What's wrong is lettin' it take over and not bein' able to _think_. I don't care if ya react in front of me because I'm the one yer supposed to come to, but I can't stand it when ya do it in front of them. I don't trust 'em. Not with that."

"I'll try."

Daryl nodded. "You do what you gotta. I got this."

"I'm really sorry."

"If I couldn't handle you, ya wudden've been given t' me."

The vaguely spiritual sentiment, which was about as spiritual as Daryl ever got, made her smile. "Is it all right if I sleep a little while?"

Daryl wordlessly reached behind the seat for the old purple traveling pillow and set it on his thigh. It had gotten Sarah through countless trips to Fort Benning before, and all the trips to the camping grounds Daryl liked when she insisted she wasn't going camping in her own backyard. She lay on her belly, one hand extending to rest on his other thigh, and closed her eyes. It was only going to be a short nap, but fuck was it needed.

The quiet wasn't crushing anymore, and Daryl found himself actually able to relax for once with Sarah's slow, even breaths hitting his belly like old times. He didn't see a walker for miles.

* * *

Sarah woke up with a start as the truck skidded to a halt. The brake shoes needed replacing, but there was little hope of that happening anytime soon

"What's going on?" she asked, rubbing the red spot on her cheek.

"Ain't sure." Daryl shifted into park and cut the engine. "You oughtta stay in the truck."

"Daryl, it's hot as balls without the air on. Can I have my gun back and come with you?"

The man was watching the figures emerging from the RV and merely grunted, pointing at the glove box.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "That is an _excellent_ hiding spot."

"Point is to make it so obvious, ya wouldn't even look there. You gonna sit around bein' sassy all day 'r are ya comin' with?" Daryl asked, pulling his crossbow from behind the seat. "I think it's ol' Jimbo. Think they're finally gonna do him in."

"Don't be so callous. What if that was me?" Sarah asked, the creak of the Ford's door drowning her voice somewhat. Daryl's upper lip raised slightly. "Okay, okay, I get it. Jeez Louise."

Even before they reached the other party, it was clear that Jim was on his last leg. Slouched against the base of an old tree, Sarah very well recognized the look of death on him. She'd seen it thousands of times in her career and dozens of times for this specific disease. The nurse in her ignored the wife in her, walking quickly to be by his side.

"Hey," she whispered after most everyone strayed away from the fading man. She gave him a small smile as he blinked at her, his discolored lips moving slowly. Daryl stood to the side, and if his posture was anything to go by, he did not like her being so close to someone who was infected with the walker illness. Jim's chest heaved after several moments of barely moving at all and Sarah helped him raise the bottle of water Rick had given him to his mouth.

Jim coughed a few times, the exertion of which caused his body to twitch in the aftermath. Daryl took in a deep breath as if to remind himself that he was still healthy, but felt jealous even of the dying man who was receiving such tender care from Sarah. He hated it even more that, even if he were dying, he didn't think he could allow Sarah to treat him so nicely.

"I can help you. Remember?" Sarah asked in a soft voice, stroking Jim's hand. She always swore she'd never work in hospice care, but giving Jim comfort in his final minutes on Earth was so much more important to her than her own discomfort.

"I think I want it now." Jim closed his eyes. "The other folks. . .Sorry I didn't tell no one. I deserve what's gonna happen to me, I just. . .I can't take this pain no more."

"Of course. Just try and get as comfortable as possible until I get back, all right? This will all be over soon." Sarah rose from her haunches, but kept her eyes on the near-stranger until she saw him nod. "Hey Glenn! I need my keys a second."

"Hell're you doin'?" Daryl asked quietly, following her to the trunk of her car. Sarah dug silently through black duffel bags that she never let him look through. "I don't really like you that close to him."

"He doesn't want to be shot, but I don't think he deserves to die in pain." Sarah pulled vinyl gloves up over her wrists with a snap and searched for a clean needle. "He's one of ours and he was real brave last night, from what I remember. If he has to die this way, he should at least be as contented as possible."

"Ain't it a waste of medicine?" Daryl pushed. After earning himself the Look of Absolute Hatred, the man backed off. He supposed if he'd made the choice Jim made (which he'd rather blow his own brains out than do), he'd rather not die in complete agony either. What Sarah was doing was pretty sweet, actually. When he thought about it, he was proud she'd kept her compassion for humanity. He kept his eyes on his woman, but did not follow her back to Jim's tree.

"What is she doin'?" Shane asked, shotgun pressed into his side. He, too, was watching Sarah sit down beside Jim.

The corner of Daryl's mouth twitched. "Just bein' Sarah."

"Let me see your arm, please." Sarah thumped at the softer inside of Jim's arm, but it wasn't hard to find a vein. His skin was already pulling tight around the darkened vessels. She'd done this so many times before, be it for a patient or her brother-in-law, but she kept in mind Jim's pain and the fear he must be feeling. Her thumb pressed down on the plunger of the syringe, pushing the clear liquid into his body, and he even sort of looked like Merle did then. The facial expression was the same as pure euphoria hit Jim's system.

"That should do you good for a couple hours." Sarah stabbed the empty needle into the Earth and sighed. "I'm real sorry this happened to you. You were always nice to me and my family."

"You an angel?" Jim breathed, reaching for her shoulder, but missing by several inches. The dose was a little too strong, but she'd wanted it that way. She had to make sure it would last him until his last second. Sarah's eyes flooded with tears and she nodded. There was no way she could ever see herself as such, but it felt completely wrong to deny a dying man his final fantasy.

"That's right," she nodded, squeezing his hand in hers.

"Are Emmaline and the girls waitin' for me?" he asked, tears falling readily down his own face as he lacked the muscle control or consciousness to stop them.

"Oh, yes. They're waiting. They're ready to see you again."

"I ain't gonna see 'em." Jim shook his head, his breath rattling in his chest now. "What I done. . ."

"Just ask God to forgive you. Ask Emmaline and the girls to forgive you."

"Can ya pray for me?" Jim asked, blinking with glassy eyes where he must imagine an angel floated above him. Sarah nodded, gripping his hand tightly.

"O most merciful Jesus, Lover of souls, I pray Thee, by the agony of Thy most Sacred Heart, and by the sorrows of Thy Immaculate Mother, cleanse in Thine Own Blood the sinners of the whole world who are now in their agony and to die this day. Amen."

Sarah brought Jim's hand back to his own body, helping him to cross himself, before standing and performing the motion for her own comfort. His eyes were closed and she knew they wouldn't open again until the man that was Jim was already gone.

When she realized some had stayed outside the vehicles to watch what was going on in curiosity, she smiled nervously and averted her eyes. Sarah threw her keys back to Glenn, who stood beside a wide-eyed Dale, and walked back to Daryl's truck.


End file.
